^  (3.  QycTic^f.  cPrr 


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j:t-ie 


CAMP  FOLLOWER 


COM'AIMKC    THK    rot.LOWtNG    STORIES 


the:    o  c>  c 


Bl      1^^  T 


CMIT  : 


THE  WIFE'^^STRAJWGEM, 

HOW    !    C(!^\^5:D    ^al_^ 

THE    CHAMPION.       ^ 

WHAR  NO  WOOD  IS,  THAR  THE  FIRE  GOETH  OUT, 

Ami   many    othcv   Tluinniudns  Sketches,   Anqcdolea,  Poetry,  etc. 
designed  for  the 

AMI8KMENT  OF  THE  VkM. 


f- 


•    i 


••  •  ••        • 

I  T  H  K  i;  \     1-  I  K  T,  n     A  \  1)     I'  I  n  K  s  I  I)  ir   o  I-  1-^  <*•:  ,    • 


iMiii.isiiicn  nv 
.STOCKTON    &    C  0. 


^•.  •  •  •  • 


^^^ 


#   *  « 


4f 


^'ti 


P  K  E  F  A  C  E. 


4>\%^ 


The  Publisher  of  tbis  Volume  Id  offering  it  to  the  pab'  .  desire?  to  say  that  bis  principal 
object  is  to  (urcish  to  the  Confedseate  Soldiers  an  opportunity  of  relioving  the  dull 
moaotony  of  camp  life,  and  of  enjoying,  in  the  peruS'!  of  its  pages,  af  least  a  temporary 
mental  recreation.  The  eo  -.tents  have  been  selected  with  especial  r-  ^--ard  to  this  object ; 
and  if  they  can  serve  to  smooth  one  wrinkle  from  the  brow  of  Cii.\.  or  add  one  moments' 
eojoyment  to  the  lives  of  our  brave  defk.vders,  the  Publisher  wiil  congratulate  himself  that 
ke  has  not  labored  in  vain. 

With  these  preparatory  remarks,  he  submits  it  to  the  Pubwo  generally  and  to  tb:? 
S0LDIER.S  particularly,  hoping  that  it  will  attain  the  object  for  which  it  is  published. 

Respectfully, 

Thb  Pi/BMsasR. 


3439G9 


%    ♦ 


-^j;:  r 


THE  CAMP  FOLLOWER. 


POLITICS    DEFINED. 


"  Mine  neighbor,  Wilhehn.  what  yo 
[ik  of  bolitics,  hey  ?"  asked  Peter  Vo 


tiuk  of  bolitics,  hey  ?"  asked  Peter  Von 
Slug  of  his  neighbor,  Yon  Sweilzell, 
the  Twelfth  Ward  blacksmith,  one  even- 
ing, as  he  seated  himself  besidu  him  i!i 
a  "Bierhaus." 

''I  tinks  much,"  said  Svveitzell,  giv- 
ing bis  pipe  a  long  wjiifiT. 

"Veil,  what  you  tinks  ? " 

"I  come  to  der  conclusiou  <l:u  uliiics 
is  one  big  fool." 

"Ah  !"  exclaimed  Pete,  after  taking 
a  draught  from  his  mug,  "how  do  you 
make  him  dat  ?'' 

"Veil,  mine  frien',  I  tell  you,-'  replied 
-  \veitzell,  after  afew  whifi's  and  a  drink, 
L  comes  to  dis  place  ten  years  last 
evening  by  der  Dutch  Almanac,  mit 
mine  blacksmit  shop.  I  bnilds  fine  little 
house,  I  puts  up  mine  bellers.  I  make 
mine  fire,  I  heats  mine  iron.  I  strikes 
mit  mine  hammer,  I  gets  blenty  of  work 
in,  and  I' makes  mine  monish."' 

"Dat  ish  goot,^"  remarked  Pete,  'and 
demanded  that  the  drained  mug  be  re- 
(illed. 

"I  say  that  I  g'  >i  much  friends,"  con- 
tinued Wilhelm,  relighting  his  pipe^ 
"Der  beeplee  all  say  Vi  n  Sweitzell  bees 
a  good  man  ;  he  blows  in  der  morning, 
he  strikes  in  der  night,  and  he  minds 
his  business.  So  dey  spraken  to  me 
many  times,  and  it  makes  me  feel  much 
^oot  here,"  slapping  his  breast. 

"Yah,  yah,  dat  ish  gooter,"  remarked 
Pete  who  was  an  attentive  listener. 

"Veil,  it  goes  aloag  dat  way  tree  year. 
Tree  !  Let  me  see,  von  year  I  make 
tree  hundred  dollar,  dor  next  tree  hoon- 
dred  an'  fifty,  der  next   fnur   hundred 


and  swonzy,  and  uer  next  five  hoondred 
tollar.  Dat  make  live  year.  Veil,  I 
bees  ht-re  five  year,  when  Old  Mike  der 
watchman,  who  bees  such  a  bad  man 
comc^  to  me  and  !io  say,  Sweitzoll  vot 
make  yoa  work  so  hard  ?  To  make 
monish  I  tell  h\\\\.  1  dells  you  ho.v  you 
make  him  quicker  as  dut,  he  say.  I  rt.^!- 
him  how,  an'  he  dells  me  to  go  into  bo! 
itics,  and  get  big  (.ffico.  I  laugh  r't  him 
ven  lie  dells  me  daf  Shake,  der  l.iwycr, 
vat  make  such  liiirty  speeches  .ibout 
Fad('rland,becsg(>in  to  run  for  Gongress 
and  dat  Phako,  der  lawyer,  de]l>;  him  to 
dell  me,  if  I  would  go  among  der  '  •  le-s 
and  dei!  them  to  vote  mit  Lin;  ..  der 
while,  he  would  put  me  into  vm  big 
office,  where  I  makes  twenty  tousand 
tollars  a  year." 

"Twenty  tousand,  mine  Got  I"  ex- 
claimed Pete,  thunderstruck. 

"Yali,  twenty  tousaud.  Well,  by 
shinks,  I  must  stop  der  strikin'  an' goes 
to  mine  friens,  an'  tell  der  Yarraans  vote 
for  Shake,  and  Shake  bees  elected  to  der 
Gongress." 

Here  Mynheer  Von  Sweitzell  stopped'? 
took  a  long  draught  of  beer  and  fixing' 
his  eyes  on  the  floor,  puffed  as  if  in  deep 
thought. 

"Veil  mine  neighbor, -''  said  Pete, after 
waiting  a  due  length  of  time  for  him  to 
resume,  "vat  you  do  den,  hey  ?" 

"Veil,  I*ask  Mike,  der  swellhead 
watchman,. for  der  office,  an' he  dells  me 
I  gets  him  der  next  year.  I  waits  till 
after  d^n-  next  krout  making  time,  an' 
den  I  say  again,  'Mike,  ven  vill  Shake 
give  me  dut  twenty  tousand  tollar  office?' 
'In  two  year,  sure,'  he  say,  'if  you  work 
for  der  barty.'    Veil,  I  stop  a  blowin' 


343969 


THE     e-AMP    FOLl'rOV.'SR, 


mil  mine  bcllcrs  agin,  an    •  blow  two 
wj  fnv  flni'  bartv  mio  mine  moo 

asked 


years  for  dcr  barty  mifc  mine  mout, 
'■'Two  years  mit  your  moufc  ?"   a 
Pete  in  astonishment. 

'■'Yaw,  two  year.     Den  again  I  go  to 
Mike,   dcr   swellhead    watohmans,   an' 
■dell  him  der  twenty  tousand  tollar  about  j 
an'  be  dells  me  in  one  more  year  I  gets  • 
him  sure.     I  dinks  he  fools  me,  yet  I 
blow  foi   dcr  barty  anudder   year,  an'  i 
den  vot  you  dinks  ?" 

"Pinks  !      Vy,  you  yits  him  twenty  , 
tMisand  dollar."  ; 

-'Gits  him  !     Py    thinks,    Mike,  der  j 
swellhead  watohmans   dells   me  I  bees  j 
von  big  fool,  an'  dat  I  might  go  to  der 
bad  place  au'  eat  sour  krout. 
"He  tell  you  dat  ?"     . 
"Yaw.     Sure  as  my  name  bees  Von 
Sweitzell." 

"After  you  do  der  blowing  mit  your 
mout  for  der  barty  ?" 
"Yaw." 

"Mine   Got  !    vat   you    do   den,    my 
iohbor  ?"  '  . 

'  I  make   a   fire  in  mine  blacksmit 
I  blows  my  own  hellers  again.     I 
mine  own  iron,   and  strikes  mit 
\vn   hammer.     I  say  to   myself 
Von   Sweitzell, "  bolitics   bees 
and  boKticians  bees  a  bigger  j 
elm  Von  Sweitzell,  do  your  j 
T,nd  let  boliticians  do  ders."  i 
Ue  thought  he  had  come  j 
'usion,  and  after  wishing 
ick  to  politicians — that 
"i  patriotism  and  integ- 
ocket — they  ordered 
again  refilled  and 


Mrs.  Pal'tiagton  wants  to  know  why 
Captains  d'jn't  have  their  ships  properly 
nailed  in  port,  instead  of  waiting  to  tack 
them  at  sea. 


snop, 
heiits  . 
mine  o 
WilheTm 
a  humbttg", 
von.     Wilh, 
own  blowin' . 
Neighbor  P 
to  a  wise  conci 
^k^U  sorts  of  bad  Iv 
clii^B  of  men  who6\ 
rity  lie  in  their  p 
their   mugs   to  be 
changed  the  topic  «f 


conversation. 


POT    POI 


*1UI. 

'dresser — Cut 


Punch's  motto  for  a  iiaii 
and  come  again  ! 

Arrangements  are  being  |. 
St.  Louis  for  buildiag  a  fine  op 
to  hold  3,500  persons,  to  h&^ 
October  next. 


perfected  in 

era  house 

■vished  in 


A  gay  contraband  at  Beaufort  told  a 
iKiwspaper  correspondent  that  she  was 
the  wife  of  the  officers  of  a  Massachu- 
setts regiment- 

"What  was  the  use  of  the  eclipse  '{ ' 
asked  a  young  lady.  "Oh,  it  gives  the 
sun  time  for  reflection,"  replied  the  wag- 

A  philosopher  who  married  a  vulgai^, 
but  amiable  girl,  used  to  call  his  wife 
brown  sugar,  because,  ho  said,  she  was 
sweet,  but  unrefined. 

The  dabbling  of  uneducated  Congress- 
men with  Press  exemptions,  reminds  us 
of  the  Irishman  who  attempted  to  snuff  a 
gas  burner  with  his  fingers. 

The  population  of  Columbia,  S.  C,  aas 
increased  within  the  last  two  years 
nearly  one  hundred  per  cent.  It 
amounts  at  this  time  to  about  twenty 
thousand. 

The  three  rules  given  by  tlio  celebra-'' 
ted  John   Hunter   for  the   rearing   of 
healthy  children,  were  :  "Plenty  of  milk 
plenty  of  sleep,  and  plenty  of  flannel.',j 

"A  soft  answer  turneth  away  wrath ," 
as  the  woman  said  when  she  quarrelled 
with  her  husband,  and  threw  a, bag  oi 
feathers  on  his  new  Sunday  suit.      .      i 

Pretty  Attention. — The  Baron 
Rothschild  had  the  Colosseum  at  Rome 
brilliantly  illuminated  with  Bengal  lights 
to  gratify  the  Baroness. 

Letters  found  in  Soain  and  recently 
published  in  Froud's  History  of  England 
prove  beyond  question,  if  they  are  gen^ 
nine,  that  Mary  Queen  of  Scots,  design 
ed  and  caused  the  death  of  Darnley 
her  husband. 

"Hallo,   Fred  !     What  you   writin 
poetry  ?  " 


iiyaKi^^ 


■**»■ 


'imA 


THB    CAMP    FOLLOWER. 


"Ye*,"  gaid  Fred,   -'I  am  writing  au 
ode  (owed)  to  my  tailor."' 
"What's  the  time  and  tune,""  said  Tom, 
"Time,  sixty  days,"  said  Fred,    "and 

it  is  set  to  ijntes  of  jainp  in  iiis  posses- 
sion." 

Loiif  bread  i.s  becouung-  .small  by  de- 
grees and  beautifully  loss,  if  we  are  to 
judge  tbeir  size  by  the  one  which  a 
blacksmith,  named  John  Daan.  pnrchas- 
Wl  f  .II-  fifty  cents,  and  on  a  sniall  wager, 
ate  at  two  mouthfnls.  This  feat  occurr- 
eS  at  a  smith's  shop,  at  the  Navy  De- 1 
partment,  and  is  voneh»Hl  for  by  several 
eye  witnesses. 

A  C^uD  Way  to  End  tiif.  War.— Not ' 
long'  ago  <mc  of  our  vidert.es  f^a-'t  of  tiie  | 
city  was  crawlin;;  cantiuu>ly  through  the 
buphcs  fin  a  trip  of  investigation,  look- 
ing out  for  bushwhackers.  He  thought 
he  heard  a  nois'\  and  concluded  he  could 
gobble  a  rebel  in  just  no  time.  As  he 
crept  up  over  a  log  on  one  .side,  a  hairy 
butternut  individual  crawled  up  on  the 
other,  coiifronting  him,  and  n^t  more 
than  a  yard  ofl'.  Both  parties  .stopped 
stiHjk  still.  "Just  like  a  frozen  statue," 
for  fnlly  a  minute  when  Guerrilla  broke 
the  silence,  thus  : 

'Hello,  Yank  !  Ye  thought  ye  would 
ketch  this  chicken  napping  didn't  ye  ?" 

Fed.  What  arc  you  crawling-  around 
in  the  bushes,  like  a  snake  in  the  grass 
for  y  Thought  you'd  fool  somebody, 
(fidn't  ynu  ?  Come  along  with  me,  old 
fellow  ! 

Oonfed.  N(j  you  dnut.  You  come  in 
out  of  the  wet  A-ith  uic.-  You  are  my 
prisoner  ! 

^  Fed.  Prisoner  be  blowed  !  I'll  bet 
you  ten  dollars  in  greenbacks  against 
Cmifederate  notes,  even,  that  you  are 
my  prisoner." 

Confed.  I'll  do  it,  lay  your  ten  spot 
on  the  log,  I  will  cover  it.  If  I  don't 
take  you  into  camp  you  can  win  my 
pile. 

The   stakes  were  put  up,  when  the 


question  how  to  decide  the  matter  came 
up.  Finally,' a  game  ofseveaupwas 
agreed  upon,  th^^  first  ten  points  to  take 
the  stakes,  and  the  other  as  a  prisoner. 
The  necessary  pack  was  pi  educed, whero- 
upon  they  both  sat  astride  the  log",  and 
played  a  lively  game  of  ohl  sledge. 
Another  vidette  came  up  soon  after  and 
took  them  both  int<j  custody,  and  broke 
up  tlie  game,  and  th(.'  day  before  yester- 
day the  Confederate  chap  was  sent  out 
\f^th  a  party  of  other  prisoners  to  be  ex- 
changed.— Memphii<  Bulletin.' 

An  Irish  bard  wrote  some  verses  a 
long   time  ago   entitled,    "The  Fittest 
Place  for  Man  to  Die."      We  know  not 
them  all,  but  the  following   noble  senti-^ 
ment  occurred  in  them  : 

Whether  on  the  scaffold  hiiili. 

Or  in  the  battle's  van  ; 
The  fittest  place  for  man  to  die. 
Is  whore  ho  dies  for  man. 

The  following  i.^  "a  palpable  hit"  a^^ 
producers  who  "  wouldn't  acknowledge 
the  corn." 

Sohie  patriotic  Tai'mers  in  some  counties  of 

this  State, 
Resolved  they'd  f^ell  tlieir  pro^hire  at  the  Gov- 

cnnncut  rate  ; 
But   when   the  people  wished  to  buy,  'tvyas 

fodni]  out,  .<5ad  to  tel!, 
That  the.-e  'patriotic  fannor.V  hadn't  auythiHo; 

to  sell ! 

A  Mr.  Shott  and  a  Mr.  Willing  had  a 
duel  in  which  both  were  wounded.  This 
circumstance  gave  rise  to  the  following 
I  lines: 

1      Shott  and  Willing  did  engage. 
1  In  d'leJ  finrce  and  hot ; 

j      Shott  .sbot  Williug.  williii^^v, 
And  Williii"^  he  phot  .Shott. 
The  shot  Shott  slot  made  Willing  quite 

A  spectacle  to  .see, 
While  Willing's  willinjf  shot  went  right 
Through  Scott's  anatomy. 

The  wag  of  the  Mississippian  says  tlje 
proceedings  of  Mr.  Foote,  sometimes 
called  Confederate  Congiess,  are  just 
now  very  dull. 


THE    CAM!'    FOLLOWER. 


Panch  Ba.ys  some  kind  little  niiiliners 
luve,  of  their  scant  earnings,  subscribed 
in  aid  of  the  victims  of  Warsaw.  This 
is,  indeed,  a  pretty  iiiustration  of  the 
needle  beiijg  trtie  to'tlie  Pok-. 

Pecidehly  Cool. — When  Wright's 
Greorgia  regiment  wa.s  drawn  up  in  line 
of  battle  to  go  into  its  first  fight  in  North 
Carolina,  Wright  in  passing  his  regi- 
ment observed  a  tall,  gianffellow  with  a 
violin  case  strapped  to  his  back. 
Wright  asked  him  what  he  was  going 
to  do  with  his  fiddle  ?  The  rude  soldier 
had  never  heard  of  Mirabeau's  dying 
exclamation,  but  he  almost  quoted  it 
^hen  he  said  he  wanted  to  "  die  to  the 
aound  of  Betay,"  this  being  the  term  of 
endearment  which  he  applied  to  his 
violin. 

After  the  fight  was  over  the  fiddling 
soldier  did  not  answer  at  roll  call.  He 
was  found  with  a  broken  leg  at  the  foot 
of  a  tree,  to  which  he  had  crawled,  qui- 
etly sawing  the  strings  of  Betsy. 

When  Jas.  T.  Brady  first  opened  a 
lawyer's  office,  he  took  a  tasement 
room  which  had  been  previously  occu- 
pied by  a  cobbler.  lie  was  somewhat 
annoyed  by  the  previous  occupant's 
callers,  ;nid  irritated  by  the  fact  that  he 
had  few  of  his  own.  One  day  an  Irish- 
man entered  and  said  : 

"Tlic  cobbler's  gone,  I  sec," 

"I  .'■hould  think  he  had,"  tartly  re- 
ypondet'  Brady, 

'•And  what  do  ye  sell,'"  said  he,  look- 
ing at  the  solitary  table,  and  a  few  law 
books. 

"Blockheads,"  responded  Brady. 

"Be  gorra,"  said  the  Irishman,  "ye 
must  be  doing  a  thriving  business — ye 
ain't  got  but  one  left."' 

What  was  Needed. — The  Duke  of 
ISIarlbrough,  admiring  the  fine  figure 
and  warlike  air  of  a  soldier,  taken  pris- 
■oneiT  at  the  battle  of  Hoschset,  said  to 
him,  "if  the  French  had  but  50,000  such 
moi  as  you,  we  should  not  have  gained 


the  day  so  easily."  "Marbieu,  my 
lord,"'  said  the  soMier,  "we  have  plenty 
such  men  as  mc,  wc  only  want  one  L'ke 
vou." 


The   Dutchman    and    Stoneis/'aLl 
Jackson. . 

The  following  amusing  story  o\'  the 
experience  of  a  Germau  sutler  in  the 
Yankee  army  is  {old  by  one  of  our  sur- 
geons who  was  left  in  charge  of  our 
wounded  at  Gettysburg,  Pa.,  last  sum- 
mer. It  seems  that  the  surgeon  in  pass- 
ing through  Hagerstown,  Md".  overheard 
a  conversation  which  took  place  on  the 
street  between  the  sutler  and  a  friend 
of  his,  which  was  as  follows  : 

Friend — Halloo.  Broom  !  I  thought 
you  were  do^n  in  Dixie,  sutlering. 

Broom — Well,  you  shist  take  one 
drink  o'  lager  beer  mit  me  and  I  tells 
you." 

They  boih  drink  and  Broom  contin- 
ues : 

You  see  de  times  git  dull  here  about 
Hagerstown,  und  I  tinks  I  goes  me  mit 
the  army  und  sutler.  Veil,  I  zhist  take:^ 
me  mine  shpring  vagon  und  mine  negro 
boy  Ike,  und  get.s  me  some  goods  und 
goes  me  to  Villiamstown.  Und  dare  is 
de  covalree  und  de  infondree  und  de 
ardilleree  ;  und  de  bond  plays  Yankee 
doodles,  und  Shtar  Shpangled  Banner 
und  Hail  Golumby,  und  do  Shtars  r.nd 
Shtripes  float  mit  de  tops  ov  de  houses 
mit  de  vind,  und  I  dinks  me  dos  is  all 
right  ;  und  den  falls  me  in  mit  de  rear 
ov  de  army  und  goes  me  to  Martins - 
town,  und  dare  sells  me  mine  gracker-i 
und  mine  sardines,  und  mine  lager  beer 
und  gets  me  de  Greenbacks  mit  mine 
Docket,  und  1  dinks  me  dos  is  goot. 
Und  den  falls  me  in  mit  de  army  again, 
und  goes  me  mit  ter  Zheneral  Banks 
to  Vinchester. 

Yell  dare  at  Vinchester  sells  m.^  mine 
sardines  und  mine  grackers  und  mine 
sesrars  und  mine  lager  beer  und  all  min;: 


THH    C!AMP    POui-OWEtt. 


goods,  tmd  getb  me  do  Cioeabacks  mit 
mine  pocket,  and  I  tinks  me  doe  m  all  so 
g'ood, 

Und  den  goes  ixie  to  Mr.  Taylor,  of 
de  Taylor  House,  nnd  dells  me  dcr  Mr. 
Taylor,  now  you  shast  keep  dcrshpring: 
vagon  und.  do  nagro  boy  Ike,  und  I 
goes  me  to  Baltimore  und  buys  me 
new  goots — und  den  goes  me  to  Balti- 
laore  und  buys  me  heap  of  new  goots 
— four  five  dollar  tcusand  vort— und 
^  comes  me  back  to  Vmchester  und  gets 
me  one  house  close  by  de  Taylor  House 
so  you  can  see  him  as  you  comes  mit 
de  Taylor  House  dis  way,  und  puts 
me .  de  nice  fly  paper  on  de  rail,  und 
puts  mine  goots  in  mine  house  ;  und 
runs  me  two  shtics  mit  de  door  out  for 
trow  the  calico  agross  zhust  for  tract 
de  tention. 

Und  von  day  coom  rem  nagro  boy 
und  looked  him  mine  vinder  in  und 
say,  "Oh,  vot  purty  goots  !  Vot  heap 
purty  goods  !  Vish  I  had  some  dem 
goots  !  Nevermind  Shtontvall  Zhack- 
son  coom  kere  some  desc  days,  den 
gits  me  some  dese  goots  !"  Und  I  say 
Tot  you  know  bout  it  ?  Shtonevall 
Zhackson  not  can  come  here,  dey  be 
too  many  beeples  ! 

Und  von  day  come  von  Yankee  c(S>v- 
alree  und  shteal  me  mine  goots  ;  und 
dgn  goes  me  to  der  Zheneral  Banks 
und  dells  me  der  Zheneral  as  von  Yan- 
kee covalree  shteal  me  mine  goots  ; 
und  dcr  Zheneral  say,  "I  make  dat 
Yankee  covalree  bring  back  you  dem 
goots." 

Und  de  next  day  come  de  Yankee 
covalree  und  put  me  mine  goots  on 
Yon  counter  und  another  Yankee  cov- 
alree shteal  me  mine  goota  from  de 
other  counter,  so  1  have  not  so  much 
goots  as  before. 

Und  von  day  coom  von  nagro  rench 
and  price  me  de  goots  and  say,   "Dese  i 
goots  be  too  high.   Nevermind,  Shtone- , 
wall    Zhackson   coom    here  some  dese  ' 
days,  den  git  me  dese  goots  for   noth- ' 


ing.  Uud  I  say  darn  de  uegro  veacli, 
Vot  you  know  bout  it  ?  Shtonewall 
Zhackson  he  not  can  cc^ic  here,  dey  be 
too  mar.y  bcoplea. 

Und  den  comes  do  big  bucks  mi-fi  de 
ladies,  und  price  me  de  goote,  und  dey 
make  up  mit  de  nose  und  say,  "Desc 
goots  be  too  high.  Nevermind,  Shtone- 
wall Zhackson  coom  here  some  dese  days 
he  git  dese  goots." "  Und  I  say,  Vot  yon 
know  about  it  ?  Shtonewall  Zhackson 
he  not  can  oome  here,  dey  be  too  many 
beoples. 

Und  von  day  shtand  me  in  mine  door 
und  looked  me  de  shtreet  up,  and  sees  me 
von  Yankee  covalree  come  down  tlie 
shtreet  fast  as  he  can  coom — in  mit  one 
shoe  and  out  mit  one  shoo,  und  his  hair 
shtick  straight  out  mit  de  vind.  Und  I 
say,  Hello  !  mine  friend,  for  vat  for  you 
run  so  fast.  Und  de  Yankee  covalree 
say,  I  no  shtop  talk  mit  you,  Shtonewall 
Zhackson  coom,  und  den  hears  me  debig 
gun  go  loose,  und  I  tinks  me  dis  be  one 
skearmish  in  de  suburps  of  de  town,  und 
dis  be  von  immoralise  Yankee  covalree 
run  away. 

Und  den  looks  me  de  shtreet  up  und 
sees  me  the  sutler  vagon  coom,  and  zhust 
behind  the  sutler  vagon  de  ardilleree,  und 
de  ardilleree  run  in  mit  de  sutler  vagon, 
and  break  de  sutler  vagon,  und  dere  lays 
de  grackers  ijnd  sardines,  und  cigars  und 
needles  and  pins,  and  calicoes  and  lager 
beer,  all  in  von  grand  heap  in  de  shtreet, 
Und  zhust  behind  de  ardilleree  come  de 
infontree,  and  zhust  behind  de  infontree 
de  covalree,  and  zhust  behind  the  coval- 
ree de  graybacks.  Mine  vader,  vos  gray 
backs  I  and  zhust  behind  de  gray  backs 
come  von  Stonefence  Zhonson  mit  von  big 
tin  horn,  aai  blows,  "Who's  been  here 
since  I've  i  >ren  gone  ? — who's  been  here 
since  I 'v.'  brcn  gone  ?"  and  rae  no  shtay 
for  tell  Liiii,  who's  been  here  since  I've 
been  gone  ? 

The  old  fellow  became  so  much  excited 
that  he  used  the  words  "Shtonefenoe 
Zhonson,''   for   "Stonewall  Jackson  " 


THE'  CAMP    P©LLOWER.. 


A  Stoiy  of  IMirtfe  and  Sadness. 
J-Qst  after  the  fight  at  Belmont  I  met 
Major,  now  called  Gol.  Cole,  of  the  5fch 
Confederate  Regiment  (severelj  woxind- 
ed  in  the  iate  battle  at  Chattanooga.) 
With  Cole  was  an  old  man  named 
Gibbons,  Cole's  orderly.  I  was  then  a 
newspaper  correspondent,  and  sought 
from  Major  Cole  information  as  to  the 
details  of  the  fight  on  his  part  of  the 
field.  Ee  ghxe  them,  and  at  the.  same 
time  the  names  of  the  killed  of  his  reg- 
ment.  Just  here  "old  Gibbons"  inter- 
rupted US,  and  insisted  that  his  name 
should  be  on  the  published  list  of  the 
slain.  He  assigned  as  a  reason,  that 
his  wife  was  a  termagant,  that  he  could 
not  live  at  home  in  peace,  and  had 
therefore  joined  the  army.  He  wished 
hea-  to  suppose  that  he  was  dead,  and 
then  perhaps  she  would  regret  the  wan- 
ton wrongs  she  had  done  him. 

Seeing  no  special  harm  to  result,  I 
added  to  my  memoranda,  "Paul  Gibbons 
a  brave  old  soldier,  belonging  to  Col. 
Pickett's  regiment,  was  shot  between 
the  eyes  while  fighting  gallantly  beside 
Maj.  Cole."  I  had  the  testimony  of 
Coie  and  of  Gibbons  himself,  and  surely 
this  was  enough  for  a  veracious  letter 
writer .     Shortly   afterwards  I  met  the 

correspondent  of  the newspaper 

and  we  exchanged  notes.  The  letters 
appeared  and  the  death  of  Gibbons  was 
duly  announced. 

The  little  paper  published  in  the  vil- 
lage whence  Gibbons  came  pronounced 
a  touching  eulogium,  and  to  the  great 
world  beyond  the  army,  Gibbons  was 
no  more. 

Six  months  afterwards  I  went  down 
the  Tennessee  river  in  a  skiff  from 
Chattanooga  to  reach  our  arniy,  then 
camped  at  Tupelo.  One  day,  riding 
along  our  lines,  I  was  accosted  by  a 
care-worn  old  man,  whom  I  did  not  re- 
cognise. "Don't  you  know  me?"  he 
asked,  iu  tremulous  accents,  "  I  am  the 
man  von  killed  at  Belmont."     I  could 


Act  repress  sua  cxciamation  of  surprise 
and  amasemeat,  the  terms  of  whicla 
need  not  be  reproduced.  He  then  ex- 
plained that  I  had  "killed  him  in  tte 
newspapers,  that  his  wife  had  adminis- 
tered on  bis  estate,  sold  his  negroes  and 
had  married  again." 

I  asked  him  what  I  could  do  for  him. 
His  woe  begone  looks,  white  hairs  and 
tearful  eyes,  touched  my  sympathies. 
He  answered  that  I  must  resurrect  him. 
Sad  as  was  Gibbons'  face,  and  sincerely 
as  I  regretted  what  I  had  done,  I  lauged 
till  ray  sides  ached.  The  old  man  grew 
angry  at  length,  and  swore  he  would 
shoot  me.  The  joke  vanished,  and  I 
instantly  became  serious.  In  solemn 
accents  I  promised  to  resuscitate  him 
through  the  columns  of  every  newspa- 
per in  the  South.  Soon,  however,  the 
Federals  came  to  the  village  in  which 
Gibbons  had  lived.  His  home  was 
plundered  and  burned,  his  slaves  en- 
ticed away  to  starve  in  a  Yankee  gar- 
rison. The  old  man  died  and  was  buried 
perhaps — no  one  can  designate  the 
spot.  We  did  not  hear  of  him  after  we 
left  North  Mississippi. 

_ _ ^        MP        » ' 

A  Philosophic  Darkey. — A  Yankee 
newspaper  correspondent  gives  the  fol- 
lowing account  of  a  colloquy  with  a 
philosophic  darkey,  who  had  been  pres- 
ent at  the  battle  of  Fort  Donelson  : 

Observing  him  toasting  his  shins 
against  the  chimney,  I  broke  iu  upon 
his  profound  meditations,  thus  : 

'*Were  you  in  the  fight  of  Fort  Don- 
elson ?" 

"Had  a  little  taste  of  it,  sah." 

"Stood  your  ground,  did  you  ?" 

"No  sah,  I  runs."  ' 

"Run  at  the  first  fire,  did  you  ?'i, 

"Yes  sah,  and  would  hab  run  sooner 
had  I  known  it  war  cummin." 

"Why  that  wasn't  very  creditable  to 
your  courage." 

"Dat  ain't  in  my  line,  sah  ;  cookin  's 
ray  peifeeshun." 


THE    CAMF    FOLLOWir. 


"WcU,  but  have  you  no  regard  for 
your  reputation  ?  ' ' 

"Reputation  is  nothin  to  me  by  the 
side  of  life." 

"Do  you  consider  your  life  vrorth  more 
than  other  people's  ?  "    , 

"It's  vrorth  more  to  me,  sah." 

"Then  you  must  value  it  highly  ?  " 

"Yes,  sah.  I  does — more  dan  all  dis 
world — more  dan  a  million  of  dollars, 
sah  ;  for  v?hat  would  dat  be  worth  to  a 
man  md  de  bref  out'n  him  ?  Self  pre- 
scrbation  is  de  fust  law^  wid  me,  sah." 

"But  why  should  you  act  on  a  differ- 
ent rule  from  others  ?  " 

"Because  difiereut  men  set  diiferent 
values  on  da  lives  ;  mine  is  not  in  de 
market,  sah." 

'But  if  you  lost  '»it  you  would  have 
the  sati^action  of  knowing  that  you'd 
died  for  your  country," 

"What  satisfaction  would  that  be, 
sah,  when  de  power  of  feelin  was  gone." 

"Then  patriotism  and  honor  are  no- 
thing to  you." 

"  Nothin  whatever,  sah  ;  I  regard 
dem  as  among  de  vanities." 

"If  our  soldiers  were  like  you,  trait- 
ors might  have  broken  up  the  govern- 
ment without  resistance." 

'Yes,  sah,  dere  would  have  been  no 
help  for  it.  I  wouldn't  put  my  life  in 
de  scale  agiiint  any  gubbernment  dat 
ever  existed,  for  no  gubbernment  could 
replace  de  loss  to  me."  , 

"Do  you  think  any  of  your  company 
would  have  missed  you,  if  you  had  been 
kiUed  ?  " 

"May  be  not,  sah.  A  dead  white  man 
ain't  much  to  dese  sogers,  let  alone  a 
dead  nigger  ;  but  I'd  a  missed  myself, 
sah.  and  dat  is  do  pint  wid  me,  sah." 


Danish  Difficulty  Explained  by 
"Punch." — Punch  observes,  "Young 
persons  who  dine  out,  and  wish  to  be 
considered  >vell-iuformed  young  diners 
out,  must  desire  to  be  able  to  answer. 


in  a  few  simple  words,  the  question 
frequently  put  as  to  the  real  value  of 
the  difficulty  about  the  king  of  Den- 
mark's succession  to  the  Schlcswig'- 
Holstein  dutchies.  Mr.  Punch  vvili  ck- 
plain  the  matter  in  a  moment.  The 
case  is  this  :  King  Christian  being  an 
agnate,  is  the  collateral  heir  male  of 
the  German  Diet,  and  consequently  the 
Dutchy  of  Holstein  being  mediatized, 
could  only  have  ascended  to  the  Land- 
gravine of  Hesse  in  default  of  consan- 
guinity in  the  younger  branch  of  the 
Sonderbug-Glucksburg,.  and  therefore 
Schleswig,  by  the  surrender  of  the 
Duke  of  Saxe-Coburg,  Gotha  was  ac- 
quired as  a  lief  in  remainder  of  the 
morganatic  marriage  of  Frederick  VII. 
This  is  clear  enough,  of  course. 

The  difficulty,  however,  arises  from 
the  fact  that  while  the  Danish  proctocol 
of  1862,  which  was  drawn  up  by  Lord 
Palmerston,  but  signed  by  Lerd  Mahu- 
csbury,  repudiated  ex  post  facto  the 
claims  of  Princess  Marj'  of  Anhalt,  ae 
remainder-woman  to  the  Electress  of 
Augustenburg,  it  only  operated  as  a 
uti  possidetis  in  reference  to  the  inter- 
ests of  Prince  Christian  of  Schleswig- 
Holstein-Sonderburg-Glucksburg,  while . 
Baron  Runsen's  protest  against  Catholi- 
cism, under  the  terms  of  the  edict  of 
Nantes,  of  course  barfed  the  whole  of 
the  lifieal  ancestry  of  the  Grand  Duke 
from  claiming  by  virtue  of  the  Salic 
clause  of  the  Pragmatic  Sanction.  The 
question  is,  therefore,  exhaustively  re- 
duced to  a  very  narrow  compass,  and 
the  dispute  simpl}'  ig,  whether  an  ag- 
nate who  is  not  consanguinoua  can  as 
a  Lutheran,  hold  a  fief  which  is  clothed 
by  mediatiiiation  with  tlie  character  of 
a  neutral  belligerent.  This  is,  really, 
all  that  ie  at  issue,  and  those  who  seek 
to  complicate  the  case  by  introducing 
the  extraneous  st^atement,  time  no  doubt 
in  itself,  that  the  Princess  of  Wales, 
who  is  the  daughter  of  tlie  present 
King  of  Denmark,  made  no  i>ublic  re- 


10 


THE    GAMP    POLLOWBE- 


liunciatioif  of  eifcher  of  the  Pntchies,  or 
the  ivory  hair  brushes,  when  she  dined 
with  Lord  Mayor  Rose,  are  simply  en- 
deavoring- to  throw  dust  in  the  eyes  of 
Btirope." 

When  this  Cruel  War  is  Over. 


YANKEE  (iSRh  TO  KSP.  LOVE£. 

l>eaicst  love  !  Do  you  remember. 

When  we  last  did  meet, 
How  you  told  me  that  you  loved  mc. 

Kneeling  at  my  feet  ? 
Oh,  how  proud  you  stood  before  me, 

In  your  suit  of  blue, 
When  yon  vowed  to  me  and  couatrv 

Ever  to  be  true. 

Chorrs. — Weeping,  sad  and  lonely, 

Hopea  and  fears  how  vaiii. 
When  this  cruel  war  is  over, 
Praying  that  we  meet  again. 

When  the  summer  breeze  was  sighing.) 

Moumfnlly  along. 
Or  when  autumn  leaves  were  falling, 

Sadly  breathes  the  song. 
Oit  in  dreams  I  see  thee  lying 

Ou  the  battle  plain,' 
Lonely,  wounded,  even  dying, 

Calling,  bat  in  vain.  " 

It  amid  the  din  of  bnttie. 

Nobly  you  should  fall. 
Far  away  from  those  who  love  yon. 

Non*:  to  hear  your  call. 
V.  ho  w(,\ik\  whisper  words  of  comfort.    . 

Who  would  soothe  your  pain  ? 
Ah,  the  many  cruel  fancies. 

Ever  in  my  brain  1 

Bat  your  country  called  you  darling. 

Angels  cheer  your  way. 
While  our  nation's  sons  are  fighting. 

We  can  only  pray. 
Nobly  strike  for  God  and  Liberty.     _ 

Let  all  nations  see 
■'liat  we  love  the  stany  banner. 

Kinblem  of  the  free. 


.      THR    I.eVRR'S    RRPLY. 

Dearest  love  I    I  do  remember 
Wheu  we  last  did  meet. 


How  I  told  you  that  I  loved  you, 

KneeKng  at  your  feet. 
Yes,  I  proudly  stood  before  yoa 

In  my  suit  of  bine, 
And  I  thought  to  you  am^  coTintrT 
Ever  to  be  trae. 
Chorus,— Weeping,  sad  and  lonely, 
All  your  hopes  are  vain. 
For  I've  wed  a  colored  lady, 
And  we'll  never  meet  again,. 

When  the  summer  breeze  was  sighing, 
Mournfully  along,  "       "' 

By  a  negro  cabin  marching 

There  I  heard  a  song' 
Oft  for  days  I  had  been  seeking 

Lonely,  moping,  kind  a-sQeakiag 
Round  and  round  in  vain  ! 

Not  amid  the  din  of  battle 

Did  I  hear  her  call  ; 
Far  away  from  rebel  pickets 

Hid  behind  a  wall. 
T'nere  she  wispered  words  of  comfort' 

Through  tbc-  window  pane. 
Ah,  the  many  kinky, darkies 

Loving  me  in  vain. 

Now  this  darkey  calls  me  "darlic?." 

Angela  clear  the  way  I 
While  for  niggers  we  are  fightins. 

She  can  only  say  : 
"  Xobly  strike  for  Abe.  and  den  for  me 

Let  de  white  gal  see  * 

Dat  you  hib  de  darkey  better 
Dan  dem  who's  free. 
Chorcs.— Weeping;  sad  and  lonely. 
All  your  hopes  ore  vain, 
For  I've  wed  a  colored  lady. 
-A/id  we'll  neve-  meet  again. 

A  stranger  from  the  country  observ- 
ing an  ordinary  roller-nile  on  the  table 
took  it  up,  and  inquiring  its  use  was 
answered  : 

"  It  is  a  rule  for  counting  hoijses." 
Too  well  bred,  as  he  construed  polite- 
ness, to_  ask  unnecessary  questions,  he 
turned  it  over,  and  u\y  and  down  re- 
peatedly, and  at  last  in  a  paroxysm  of 
baffled  curiosity,  inquired  :  "  How  in 
the  name  of  wonder  do  \un  count  houses 
with  this  ?" 


THE     CAMP    fOLLOWEil. 


1-1 


THE  WIFE'S  STRATAGEM. 

O^iTAiK  Maemaduke  SurTH,  is — ^judging 
from  his  present  mandane,  matter-of-fact  char- 
acter, aboct  the  last  man  one  wonl  i  suspect 
of  having  been  at  anj  timo  of  his  life  a  victim 
to  the  "tender  passion. "  A  revelation  be 
volunteered  to  two  or  three  croniea  at  the 
club  the  other  evening  nndeceived  us.  The 
captain  cu  this  occasibn,  as  was  generally 
the  ca-c  on  the  morrow  of  a  too  great  in- 
dulgence, wa9  somewhat  dull  spirited  and 
lachrymoje.  The  weather,  too,  wii?  gloomy  ; 
a  melancholy  barrel  organ <  had  been  droning 
dreadfully  for  some  tine  beneath  the  windows  ; 
and  to  crown  all,  Jdr.  T.ipo,  wri6  ha-<  a  quick 
eye  for  the  sentimeuiui.  iiad  discovered,  and 
read  aloud,  a  comini'n,  but  ^a  1  stor  of  mad- 
ness and  suicide  \n  the  ewnim;  piper.  It  i* 
not.  thercforo,  no  surprising  that  i<  ii  1;  r  recol- 
lection should  have  revive  i  with  unujiUii!  Force 
in  the  veteran's  memory. 

"Yon  would  hardly  believe  it.  Tape,"'  s.».d 
Captain  Smith,  after  a  d^iii  pause,  and  erait- 
.  ting  a  sound  somewhat  resembling  a  sigh,  as 
he  relighted  the  cigar  which  had  gone  out 
during  Mr.  Tape's  reading  — "\oa  would  hard- 
ly believe  it,  perliap? ;  but  1  wa?  woman- 
witched  oiiCe  n'y.<t.-It  I'" 

•'Never '.■■  ciolainjed  thf  aJiioni.^hed  gentle- 
man whom  he  uddressfd.  "A  man  of  your 
strength  of  mind,  Captain  ?  leant  believe 
it,;  it's  impossible  I " 

"It's  an  extraordinary  faot,  I  admit  :  and, 
to  own  the  truth,  I  have  ncv«r  btjen  able  to 
account  exactly  for  it  mjself.  Fortu.i.itely.  I 
took  the  disorder  as  I  did  the  meazels — young  ; 
and  neither  of  these  complaints  is  apt  to  be  so 
fatal  then,  I'm  told,  as  when  they  pick  a  man 
up  later  in  life.  It  was,  however,  a  very  se- 
vere attack  wliile  it  lasted.  A  very  charming 
hand  at  hooking  a  gudgeon  was  that  delight- 
ful Coralie  Dufour,  I  must  say." 

''Any  relation  to  the  Monsieur  ^nd  >Iadame 
Dufour  *e  saw  seme  years  ago  in  Paris  ?' 
asked  Tape.  "The  husband,  I  remember,  was 
remarkably  fond  of  expressing  his  gratitude  to 
yoi  for  having  once  wonderfully  carried  him 
through  his  difficulties." 

Captain  Smith  looked  sharply  at  Mr.  Tape, 
a-  if  he  su  pected  some  lurking  irony  beneath 
the  bland  innocence  of  hi.-'  words.  Perceiv- 
ing, as  usual,  nothing  in  the  speaker's  counte- 
adiioe  Mr.  Smith — blowin,^  at  the  3."Uiie  time 
a  wernendaous  cloud  to  conci^ai  a  f.iinf  Muali 
wl  ich.to  mv  kxtrvme  a-touishmont,  1  ob^eyveii 


stealing  ovei*  hi*>  un  .ceasxomed  eatures — said, 
gravely,  alm?st  solemnly  :  "Yeu,  Mr.  Tape, 
are  a  n.ariied  map,  and  the  fa'ther  el  a  family, 
and  your  own  expori^ince.  therefore,  in  the 
female  line  most  be  ample  for  a  Hfetime  ;  but 
you,  sir,'"  continuvd  ti:'^(;aptair..  patron'zinKly, 
addressing  another  ot  iiia  aoditors,  "are.  I  be- 
lieve, as  yet  'unati ached."  iii  a  iegul  sense,  and 
may  therfore  derive  prolit.  aa  well  as  instruc- 
'  tiou,  from  au  exampk;  of  tb-,.'  way  in  which 
ardent  and  inexperienced  youth  is  sometime* 
entrapped  and  bamboozled  by  womankind. — 
Mr.  "Tape,  oblige  me  by  touching  the  bell." 

The   instant  the  captain.s  order  had  been 
obeyed,  he  commenced   the   n^irrative  of  his 
I  love  adventure,  and  for  a  time  spoke  with  his 
1  accustomed  calmness  :  but  toward  the   close 
;  lie   became  to  exceeding  discursive   and  ex- 
cited, and  it  was  with  so  much  difficulty  we 
drew  Irom  him  many  little  particulars   it  wa.s 
e^ential  to  hear,  that  I  have  been  compelled, 
from  regard  to  brevity  as  well  as  strict  deco- 
rHm,  to  soften  down  and   render  in  my   own 
words  some  of  the  chief  incidents  of  his  mia 
hiip. 

Jti.-l  pr  vious  to  the  winter  campaign  whicj 
witne-sed  the  second  siege  and  fall  ot  Bada- 
iol,  Mr.  Smith,  in  the  Bealous  cxercis'.-  of  his 
perilous  vocation,  entered  that  city  in  his 
usual  disguise  of  a  Spanish  countryman,  with  , 
strict  orders  to  keep  his  eyes  and  ears  wide 
open,  and  to  report  as  speedily  as  possible 
npun  various  military  detaib,  which  it  was 
d<'sirab!e  the  British  general  should  be  made 
acquainted  with.  Mr.  Smith,  from  the  first 
moment  that  the  pleasant  position  was  hinted 
to  him,  had  manifested  considerable  re'.ue- 
tauce  to  undertake  the  task  ;  more  especially 
as  General  Phillipon,  who  commanded  t'ue  ' 
French  garrison,  hod  not  veiy  long  before 
been  much  too  near  catching  him,  to  render 
a  possibly  still  more  intimate  acquau  tance, 
with  so  sharp  a  -ji-acii'ionor  at  ail  deairable. 
Nevertheless,  p8  the  service  was  argent,  and 
no  one,  it  was  agreed,  so  competent  as  himself 
to  the  duty— indetd  upon  this  point  Mr.  Smith 
remarked  that  the  most  flaf.ering  unanimity 
of  opinion  was  exhibited  by  all  the  gentlom'^u 
likely,  should  he  decline  the  honor,  to  b^  .soloct- 
ed  in  his  place — he  6aally  consented,  u.nd  in 
due  time  found  himsell  fairly  within  the  walls  , 
of  the  devoted  city.  "It  was  an  uncom  ort- 
ablc  business,"  the  captain  said,  "very  much 
BO— and  in  more  ways  than  one.  It  look  a 
long  time  toac^ompli'h  ;  and  wh;\»  wa^  worse 
ih^'i    ;di.  ra'xi  ■■,  wore  m^s^rablv  siiort.     The 


12 


THE     CAMP    FOLLOWER. 


Erecch  parrison  were  living  upoE  sahed  horse- 
flesh, and  yon  may  g'uess,  therefore,  at  the 
csnditiOD  0*  the  civiliaDS'  vicUiaiJog  tlt'part- 
ment.  Wine  was,  however,  to  he  hnci  in 
snfficieEt  plenty;  and  I  used  frequer.tJy  ui 
pass  a  few  hours  at  a  place  of  enfttrtaiiiint.-"' 
kept  by  an  Andalnsian  woman,  whose  bitit  r 
hatred  of  the  French  invader?,  and  favor  «b!e 
disposition  toward  tlie  British  were  well 
known  to  me,  though  successfully  concealed 
from  Napoleon's  soldiers,  many  of  whom — 
sous-officei's,  chiefly — were  ber  customer!".  My 
chief  amusement  there  was  plajing  a*  domi- 
noes for  a  few  glasses.  I  played,  when  1  had 
a  choice,  with  a  smart,  soodish-lookiug  sous- 
lieutenant  of  voUigeuri: — a  glib-tougutd  chap, 
of  the  sort  that  tell  all  ihev  know,  and  some- 
thicg-  over,  with  very  !i;i!e  pressinjj.  His 
comrades  addressed  hij;i  us  Victor,  the  only 
name  I  then  knew  him  hy.  He  and  1  brcame 
very  good  friend?,  the  more  rtadily  thiit  1  was 
''content  he  should  generally  win.  I  soon 
reckoned  Master  Victor  up  ;  but  there  was 
an  old,  wiry  <xie.dm  of  a  sergfant-inajt^r  some 
■  times  present,  whose  sus;>icious  mar.  er  cauK-^l 
me  frequent  twinges.  One  day  espf><^'"ii!ly  I 
caught  him  looking  at  me  in  a  M-av  '.bat  sent 
the  blood  <ralloping  thronah  my  veins  like 
wild-fire.  A  luolc.  Mr.  'i'^pc  wli  cb  may  be 
very  likely  followed  in  a  few  miirate»  after- 
ward by  a  baiter,  or  by  half  a  dozen  bullet.s 
through'  one's  btnly,  is  apt  to  excite  av,  un 
pleasant  sensation." 

"I  should  think  so.     I  wouldn''  i>e  ii;  siu'h 
•a  pi-edicament  for  the  creation."' 

"It's  a  situation  that  woiud  hardly  -uit  y()U. 
Mr.  Tape  "  replied  the  veteran,  with  a  jT'im 
smile.  ••Well,  the  gray-beaded  old  ios.  lo!- 
lowed  op  his  look  with  a  number  of  iiiteres'.- 
ing  queries  concerning  my  hirtlv  pai-entagn, 
and  present  occupation,  my  flr=v.c-!-.-  to  which 
ao  operated  open  him,  that  ]  ;.|'  (j-jito  certain 
when  he  snook  hand*  w!"'  m;-,  ainl  expressed 
himself  perfectly  sa>i-^  ..nd  Riuntered  care- 
lea^ly  out  of  the  p'  •..■.that  he  was  gone  to 
ropoVt  his  snrnii  .-.s  :it:d  would  be  probably 
back  again  in  t•i^^■■  twis  with  a  tiie  of  soldiers 
and  an  order  ;or  my  arrest.  He  had  put  me 
so  smartly  tiMouiih  uiy  facings,  that  althuui'h 
it  was  qi-v.-.e  h  cold  day  for  Spain.  I  give  you 
my  hono!'  I  perspirej  to  the  very  lip^  fif  my 
tiDgers  and  toe.«.  Tlie  chance  of  escape  was. 
1  felt,  almost  d(*s)>-rite.  The  previous  even- 
ing a  rKmor  had  circulated  that  the  British 
jrereral    hnd   st'vrmed    Ciudad    Rodrigo,  and 


seven-leagae    faoO'ts.   toward    Badajoz.      The 
French   were   c^nseque  tly  more  than    ever 
on   tlie   alert,  and  keen  eyes  watched   wrtn 
sharpened   eagerness  for  indication  of  sympa- 
thy or  correspondence  between   the  citijieris 
aud   the  advancing  army.     I  jumped  up  as 
«oon  8s  the  sergeant-major  had    disappeared, 
;i;  d  wiif^  abnut  to  follow,  when  the  luiatresa  of 
th<    place   approached,  and   .'aid.   hastily,  'I 
ha>e  heard  all,  and  il  not  quick,  you  will    be 
eacrificed    by  tho-e  French  dog.s  :  ihis  way.' 
I    followed  to  an  inner  ap^rtmert'.  where  she 
drew   I'om  a  well-couceaifed  reco.«s,  a   French 
officer's   uuilorin,   complete.      'O/i    with    it!' 
rh-  exclaimed,  as  >he  lelt.ilje  room.      I  know 
tlie  W'!rd  and  countersign.'     1  did  no'  u-qnire 
twice   telling.  >ou  may   be  sun^ ;  ind  in    'fcS3 
than  no   time  was  toqijed    .  ft  li(>au!i!ully   in  a 
lieuteoi'nt's   utiiiorrn.  and    walkins;  at  a  smart 
p.>ce  toward   one  cf  thi-  jzut'-s      I  was    wiiliin 
twenty    yard-    ot^  the    corps  de-garde,    whCQ 
■  horn  sijuuld    I  rui)  against   bur   .so»s-lieut<n- 
an*    Vitt'^r!     He  stared,  uu'.    either  d.d    not 
lor  the  moment  know  me,  <>r  else  doubted  the 
evidence  of  \\'u  own  senset?.     I   quickened  my 
s;ops~the    guard     challKnged — I    gave     the 
woids,    "Xapoleou.     .^usterlitz!— pa.?.=ied   on; 
ai:d  a*  socn  as  a  turn  of  the  road  hid  me  from 
view,  increased  my  pace  'o  a  run.     My  horse, 
I^  should   have  s'uiti  d,  had  been  left  in   sure 
hands  at  about    two  miiea'  distance.     Could 
1    reach  >o   f;ir.  .then-    was,  I   felt,  a   chance. 
Uniorcntuit'  'y.  I  had  not  gone  more  than  five 
or  six  hiui'ir'  d  v;.rd.-,  wLeii  a  hubbub  of  .^houtg 
and  !iiU!.ket-s!;ouis  iif  my  rear,  announced  that 
I  wa.-  pursued.     I  glanced  round  ;  aud  I  assure 
you.  '^eiitlennn.  I   have  seen  iu  my  life   many 
pleav.ntcr    wr- spccts  than   m«t    my   view — 
Kicijmond  Hill,  for  instance,  on  a  fine  summer 
duy.     Between  twenty  and  thirty   voUigeurs, 
head'd  by  my  friend  Vi»;''..T.  wiio  hod   armed 
hinii^elf,  like    "lu-  other-,  wiib  a    musket,  were 
iu    full  pun-uit  ;  ar>d  o  ce.  I  was  quite  satis- 
fltd,  within   gun-shot,  my    business   would  be 
very  "Hvctually  and  spetdily  settled. 

•  I  rat)  on  with  eager  desperatian ;  and 
though  (.Tddualiy  nean-d  my  friends,  gained 
the  hut  wLt -re  1  had  U  It  my  horse  in  safety. 
Tb«'  vokigcure  were  t.hrown  out  for  a  few 
miuutes.  They  knew,  h.owever,  that  I  had 
not  passed  the  thicki>h  clumps  of  trees  which 
partially  concealed  tl'e  uttage  ;  and  they  ex- 
teiided  themselves  in  a  senn-circle  to  inclose,, 
and  thus  make  sure  ot  \hcir  prey.     Juan  San- 


m  gi 


chez,  luckily   for  himself,  was   not  at  home  ; 
alrtalv  br.stenifvff  in  his-'  but  my  borse,  as  I  have  stated,  was  safe,  acd 


THiC     CAMP    PeiLLOWflR. 


13 


la  prime  com^iliin  for  a  i-a<;e.  I  gadd'vd, 
bridled,  acd  brongiit  him  out.  still  coa^^iltd 
by  the  tref.<  from  the  French,  who?e  exulting 
shouts,  as  they  ^adually  closed  upon  th«  spot, 
grew  momi  nlly  loader  and  fiercer.  The  sole 
de^perato  chance  left  was  to  dash  right 
through  them;  and  I  don't  mind  telling  joa, 
gentlemi'n,  that  I  was  confoundedly  Irigbten- 
id.  and  that  bat  for  the  certainty  of  being 
instantly  >i\crificpd,  without  benefit  of  clerfiy. 
I  should  Lave  surrendered  at  onee.  There 
was,  however,  no  time  lor  shilly-shallying.  I 
took  another  pull  ;it  the  saddle-girths,  mount- 
ed, drove  the  only  jpur  1  bad  time  to  strap  on 
sharply  into  the"  animars  flank,  and  in  an  in- 
stant broke  cover  in  full  u»d  near  view  of  the 
expecting  and  impatient  voitigeurs  ;  and  a 
very  brilliant  reception  they  gave  me — quite 
a  stunner  in  fact!  It's  a  very  ;,Mand  thing, 
no  doabt,  to  be  the  exclusive  obj  ct  of  atten- 
tion to  twenty  or  thirty  gallant  men,  but  so  j 
little  selfish,  gentlemen,  have  1  i»ex.'n  Irom  my 
youth  upward  in  the  article  of  'glory,'  that  I 
assure  you  I  should  have  be<.'n  remarkably  | 
well-j  leased  to  hav  had  a  few  companions —  | 
thumore  the  merrier — to  share  the  monopoly 
which  1  engrossed  ad  I  came  suddenly  in  sight. 
The  flashes,  reports,  builtts,  •iacres,  which  in 
an  ir:8tant  gleamed  in  my  eyes,  ar.d  roartd 
and  sang  ubout  my  ears  were  rivafening.  How 
they  all  contiived  to  miss  me  I  can't  imagin;-, 
but  miss  me  they  did ;  and  I  had  passed  thim 
about  sixty  pacts,  whc?.  who  should  start  up 
over  a  hedge,  a  few  yards'  in  advance,  but  my 
domino-player,  80us-lieu'enant  Victor  I  In  an 
instant  his  musket  was  raised  within  two  or 
three  feet  of  my  face.  Flash  !  bang  I  I  felt 
a  blow  as  if  from  a  thrust  of  red-hot  steel ; 
and  for  a  moment  made  me  sure  that  my  head 
was  off.  With  diffieulty  I  kept  my  seat.  The 
horse  dashed  on,  and  I  was  speedily  beyond 
the  chance  of  capture  or  pursuit.  I  drew 
bridle  at  tiie  first  village  I  reached,  and  found 
that  Victor's  bullet  had  gone  clean  through 
both  cheeks.  The  Biarks,  you  see,  are  still 
plain  enough." 

This  was  quite  true.  On  slightly  eeparat- 
ing  the  gray  hair«  of  the  captain's  whiskers, 
the  places  where  the  ball  had  made  its  en- 
trance and  exit  were  distinctly  visible. 

"A  narrow  escape,"  I  remarked. 

"Yes,  rather  ;  but  a  miss  is  as  good  as  a 
mile.  The  effusion  of  blood  nearly  choked 
me  ;  and  it  was  astonishing  how  much  wine 
and  spirits  it  required  to  wash  the  taste  out  of 
my  mouth.    I  found,"  continued  Mr.  Smith, 


•'on  arrivioj  at  iii>ad  o«a?tei'S,  toat  Ciadttd 
Rodrigo  had  fai'en  a<s  reported,  aod  that  Lord 
Wellington  was  hurrying  on  to  storm  Badajoz; 
before  the  echo  of  his  guns  should  have  reached 
Masena  or  Soult  in  the  fool's  paradise  where 
they  were  both  slumbering.  I  was  of  course 
for  some  tim«  on  the  sick  list,  and  consequent- 
ly only  assi«)tc<l  at  the  assault  of  Badajoz  as  a 
distant  spectator — a  part  I  always  preferred 
when  1  had  a  choice.  It  was  an  awful,  terri- 
ble "business,"  adiled  Mr.  Smith,  with  unusual 
solemnity.  "I  am  not  much  of  a  philosoper 
that  I  know  of,  nor,  except  in  service  hoars, 
particularly  given  to  religion,  but  I  remember 
when  the  roar  and  tumult  ot  the  fierce  hurri- 
cane broke  upon  the  calm  and  silence  of  the 
night,  and  a  storm  of  hell-fire  oemed  to  burst 
from  aiiJ  encircle  the  devoted  city,  wondering 
what  the  stars,  which  were  shining  brightly 
overhead,  thought  of  the  strife  and  din  they 
looked  so  calmly  doft-n  upon.  It  was  gallant- 
ly done,  howevei. '  the  veteran  added,  in  a 
brisker  tone,  ''and  read  well  in  the  Gazette  ;  . 
and  that  perhaps  is  the  chief  thing.' 

"But  what,"  I  asked,  "has  all  this  to  do 
with  the  charming  Cofalie  and  your  lo%'e-ad- 
venture?" 

■'Everything  to  do  with  it,  as  yoa  will  im- 
mediately find.  I  remained  in  Badajoz  a  con- 
siderable time' after  the  departure  of  the  army, 
and  was  a  more  frequent  visitor  than  eve*  at 
the  bouio  of  the  exoellent  danie  who  had  so 
opportunely  aided  my  esciipe.  She  was  a 
kind-hearted  soul  with  all  her  vindictiveness ; 
and  now  that  the  French  were  no  longer  riding 
rough-shod  over  the  city,  spoke  of  those  whd* 
were  lurking  about  in  concealment — of  whom 
tlfere  were  believed  to  be  not  a  few,  with  sor-  ■ 
row  and  compassion.  At  length  the  wound  I 
had  received  at  lieutenant  Victor's  hands  was 
thoroughly  healed,  and  I  was  thinking  of  de- 
parture, when  t*:e  Andalusian  dame  introduced 
me  in  her  taciturn,  expressive  way  to  a  charm- 
ing young  Frenchwoman,  whose  husband,  a 
Spaniard,  had  been  slain  during  the  assault  or 
sack  of  the  city.  The  intimacy  thus  begun 
soon  kindled  on  my  part,  into  an  intense  ad- 
miration. Coralie  was  gentle,  artless,  confiding 
as  she  was  beautihil,  and  moreover— as  Jean- 
nette,  her  sprightly,  black-eyed  maid  informed 
me  in  eonfidenoe— extremely  rich.  Here,  gen- 
tlemen, was  a  combination  of  charms  to  which 
only  a  heart  of  stone  could  remain  insensible, 
aod  mine  at  the  time  was  not  only  young,  but 
particularly  sensitive  and  tender,  owing  in 
some  degree,  I  dare  say,  to  the  low  diet  to  which 


14 


?«E    CAJdP    FOL.LOWE'R. 


•I  faa<i3  beoQ  eo  loag-  e<>»£ocd ;  for  KOthing,  ia 
mj  opinion,  takes  tiic  sense  and  plack  out  of 
a  man  so  q-uickly  as  that.  At  aJ!  events  I 
Kooo  sarreudered  at  discretion,  and  was  coyly 
accepted  by  tlic  blashia?  lady,  ''i'here  was 
oqIv  one  obstacle,"  she  timidly  observed,  'to 
©sr  happiness.  The  relatives  ot  her  late  hus- 
band, by  law  her  guardians,  were  prejudiced, 
mercenary  wretches,  anxious  to  marry  her  to 
aa  old  hunks  of  a  Spaniaad,  so  that  the  proper- 
ty of  her  late  husband,  chiefly  consisting  of 
precious  stones — he  had  been  a  lapidary — 
might  not  pass  into  the  hands  of  foreigners.' 
I  can  scarcely  believe  it  now,"  added  Mr. 
.Smith,  with  great  heat;  but  if  I  didn't  swal- 
low all  this  stuff  like  sack  and  sugar,  I'm  a 
Dutchman  !  The  thr>nght  of  it.,  old  as  I  am, 
sets  my  very  blood  on  fire. 

'■At  length,  ccntiuaed  Mr.  Marmaduke 
Smith,  as  soon  us  he  had  partially  recovered 
his  equaiiimily;  "at  length  it  was  agreed, 
after  all  sorts  of  schemes  had  been  canvassed 
and  rejected,  (hat  llie  fair  widow  should  be 
smuggled  out  of  Badajoz  as  luggage  in  a  large 
chest,  which  Jcaunette  ftnd  the  Andalusian 
landlady— J  forget  that  woman's  name — un- 
dertook to  have  properly  prepared.  The  mar- 
riage ceremony  was  to  be  performed  by  a 
priest  at  a  village  about  twelve  English  miles 
oS  with  whon'rCoralie  undertook  to  commu- 
nicate. 'I  trust,'  said  the  lady,  'to  the  honor 
of  a  British  ofScer'— I  ha^l  not  then  received 
my  commission,  but  no  matter— 'that  he,  that 
you,  Captain  Smith,  will  respect  the  sanctity 
of  my  concealment  till  we  arrive  in  the  pres- 
ence of  the  reverend  gentleman,  who,'  she 
added,  with  a  smile  like  a  sunset,  'wi!!,  I  tru.st, 
aoite  our  destinies  forever.'  'She  placed,  as 
she  spoke,  her  charming  little  hand  in  mine, 
and  I,  you  will  hardly  credit  it,  tumbled  down 
on  my  knees,  and  vowed  to  religiously  respect 
the  dear  angel's  slightest  wish  1  Mr.  Tape,  for 
mercy's  sake,  pass  the  wine,  or  the  hare  recol- 
lection will  choke  me !" 

I  must  now,  for  the  reasons  previously  stated, 
continue  the  narrative  in  my  own  words. 

Everthing  was  speedily  arranged  for  flight. 
Mr.  Smith  found  no  difiSculty  in  procuring 
from  the  Spani  h  commandant  an  order  which 
enabled  him  to  pass  his  luggage  through  the 
barrier  unsearch»3  :  Jeannette  was  punctual  at 
the  rendezvous,  and  pomted  exaltingly  to  a 
large  chest,  which  she  whispered  contained  the 
trembling  Coral  ie.  The  chinks  were  suflBcient' 
ly  wide  to  adirit  of  the  requisite  quantity  of 
air  ;  it  locked  inside,  and  when  a  kind  of  sail- 


dotli  was  tkrowu  loosely  over  ii,  lijere  wes 
nothing  very  unu^tial  in  its  appearance.  Ten- 
derly, tremulously  did  th^  rejoicing  ;over  assist 
the  precious  load  into  the  hiied  b^-'iock-rart, 
and  off  they  started,  Mr.  Smith  and  .Jeaimette 
walking  by  the  side  of  the  richly  freighted 
vehicle. 

Mr.  Smith  trod  on  air,  but  the  cart,  which 
had  to  be  dragged  over  some  of  the  worst  roads 
in  the  world,  mocked  his  impatience  by  its 
marvelonsly  slow  progress,  and  when  they 
halted  at  noon  to  give  the  oxen  water,  they 
were  still  three  goci!  miles  from  their  destina- 
tion. 

"Do  you  think,'  .said  Mr.  Smith,  in  a  whis- 
per to  Jeannette,  holding  up  a  full  pint  fla.«k. 
which  he  had  just  drawn  from  his  pocket,  and 
pointing  toward  the  chest,  'do  you  think?— 
Brandy  and  water-  -eh  ?' 

Jea:inotte  nodded,  and  the  gallant  Smith 
gently  approachfd,  tapped  at  the  lid.  arid  in  a 
soft  low  whisper  proffered  the  cordial.  The  lid 
was,  with  the  slightest  possible  delay,  just 
sufficiently  raised  to  admit  the  flask,  and  in- 
stantly riclosed  and  locked  In  about  ten 
minutes  the  fia.'jk  was  returoed  as  silently  as  it 
had  been  received.  The  enamored  soldier 
raised  it  to  his  lips,  made  a  profound  inclina- 
tion toward  hi.s  concealed  fiancee,  and  said, 
gently,  "'A  votre  Sante,  charmante  Ooralie!" 
The  l>on'gnaut  and  joyous  exp  ession  of  Mr. 
Smith's  face,  as  he  vainly  elevated  the  angle 
©f  the  flask  in  expectation  of  the  anticipated 
draught,  assumed  an  exceetlingly  puzzled  and* 
bewilder  d  expression.  He  peere^l  into  the 
opaque  tin  vessel ;  pushed  his  little  finger  into 
its  nock  to  remove  the  loose  cork  or  other 
substance  that  impede<l  the  genial  flow  :  then 
shook  it.  and  listened  curiously  for  a  splash  or 
gurgle.  Not  'i  sound  !  Coralie  had  drained 
it  to  the  last  drop !  Mr.  Smith  looked  with 
comical  earnestness  at  Jeannette,  who  burst 
into  a  fit  of  uncontrolable  laughter. 

"Madame  is  thirsty,"  she  said,  as  soon  as  she 
could  catch  sufficient  breath :  "it  must  be  so 
hot  in  there. ' 

'*A  full  pint !"  said  the  captain,  still  in  blank 
astonishment,  "and  strong — very  !" 

The  approach  of  the  carter  interrupted  what 
he  farther  might  have  had  to  say,  and  in  a  few 
minutes  the  journey  was  resumed.  The  cap- 
tain fell  int,5  a  reverie  which  was  not  broken 
till  the  cart  again  stopped.  The  chest  was 
then  glided  gently  to  the  f round  ;  the  driver, 
who  had  been  previouslv  paid,  turned  the 
head.s  of  his  team  toward  Badajoz,  and  with  a 


THE   CAMP  roujyvrESi. 


brief  ealotation  departed  bomeward.  Jeair-  j 
nette  was,  etoopiEs:  ever  the  cbest,  con- 
vereing  in  a  low  tone  with  her  mistress,  and 
Oaptain  Smith  SHrveyed  the  position  in  which 
he  foDDd  himself  with  some  astonishment.  No 
bouse,  much  less  a  church  or  village  was  viei- 
ble,  and  not  a  human  beinj  was  to  be  seen. 

"Captain  Smith,"  said  Jeacnette,  approach- 
ing the  puzzled  warrior  with  some  hesitation, 
'a  slight  contretemps  Las  occurred.  The 
friends  who  were  to  have  met  us  here,  and 
helped  to  convey  our  precious  charge  to  a 
place  of  safety,  are  not,  a?  vou  wrceive,  ar- 
rived;  perhaps  they  do  not  ihial:  i\.  prudent 
to  venture  quite  so  far.' 

"It  is  quite  apparent  they  are  not  here," 
observed-  Mr.  Snutii ;  but  why  not  have  pro- 
ceeded in  the  cart? ' 

"What,  captain !  Betray  your  and  madame's 
secret  to  vondcr  Spanish  boor.  How  you 
talk  !•' 

"Well,  but  my  good  girl,  what  is  to  be 
done?     Will  madame  get  out  and  walk?" 

"Impossible — impossible  !"  ejaculated  the 
amiable  damsel.  "VYe  should  be  bot''  recog- 
nised, dragged  back  to  that  hateful  Badajoz, 
and  madame  would  be  ebut  up  in  a  convent 
for  life.  It  is  but  about  a  quarter  of  a  mile," 
added  Jeannette,  in  an  iusi'Miaiiug,  caLCSsing 
tone,  "and  madame  is  not  sf    em  heavy" 

"The  devil !"  exclaimed  ISb.  Smith,  taken 
completely  aback  by  this  extraordinary  pro- 
posal. "You  can"t  mean  that  I  should  take 
that  infer —  that  chest  npon   my  shoulders  ?" 

"Mon  Dieu  !  what  else  can  be  done  ?"  re- 
plied Jeannette,  with  pathetic  earnestneps ; 
"unless  you  are  determined  to  sacrifice  my  dear 
mistress— she  whom  yon  pretend  to  "o  love — 
you  hard-hearted,  faithless  man  1" 

Partially  moved  by  the  damsel's  tearful 
vehemence,  Mr.  Smith  reluctantly  approached, 
and  gently  lilted  one  end  of  the  chest,  as  an 
experiment. 

"There  are  a  great  many  valuables  there 
besides  madame,"  said  Jeannette,  in  reply  to 
the  captain's  look,  "and  silver  eoin  is,  you 
know,  very  heavy." 

"Ah  !"  exclaimed  the  perplexed  lover.  "It 
is  deucedly  unfortunate — stil' —  Don't  you 
think,"  he  ad  led  earnestly,  after  again  essay- 
ing the  weight  of  the  precious  nrdcn,  "tha*^ 
if  madame  were  to  wrap  herself  well  up  in  (his 
sail-cloth,  we  might  reach  your  friend,  the 
prioBt's  house,  without  detection?" 

"Ob,  no — no— no  !"  rcjoini  d  the  girl.  "Mon 
Dieal  bow  can  you  think  of  expjsuig  madame 


to  such  haeard  ?"   "How  tai  do  you  say  it  ►j 
asked  captain  Smith,  after   a   rat.jer  eaiien 
pause. 

"Only  just  over  the  fields  yonder — bait  a 
mile,  perhaps." 

Mr.  Smitii  still  hesitated,  but  finally  the 
tears  and  entreaties  ©'  the  attendant,  his  re- 
gard for  the  lady  and  h'-r  fortune,  the  neces- 
sity of  the  position,  in  short,  determined  him 
to  undertake  thjtusk.  A  belt  was  passed 
tightly  round  the  chest,  by  means  of  Which  be 
could  keep  it  on  his  back  ;  and  after  several 
unsuccessfnl  ofFort?.  the  charming  load  wag 
fairly  hoisted,  and  on  the  captain  manfully 
strncglcd,  .Teannetto  bringing  "p  the  rear. 

Valiantly  did  Mr.  Smith,  th()uj4h  perspiring 
in  every  pore   of  bi?  body,  and   dry  a??  a    car- 
touch-box — for  madame  had  emptied  the  only 
flask   he  had — toil  od   under  a  btr.dca  wLic  i 
seemed  to  grind  Lis -houlder-blades  to  powa 
He  declares  be  must  have  lost  a  s'C'ic  r^f  fl.. 
at  lea.-'t  before,  after  numerous  resting?.  \ 
arrived,  at  the  end  oi   about  an  hour,  nt   f 
door  of  a  small  bouw.  which  Jeannette   ;i 
nounctd  to  be  the  private  residence  of  tbn 
priest.     The  door  was  quickly  opened  by  u 
smart  lad  who  seemed  to  have  been  expecting 
them ;  the  chest  was  doppsited  on  the  floor, 
and  Jeannette  instantly  vanished.    The  lad, 
with    considerate    intelligence,  handed    Mr. 
Smith  a  draught  of  wine.     It  was  scarcely 
swallowed  when  the  key  turned  in  the  lock, 
the  eager  lover,  greatly  revived  by  the  wine, 
sprang  forward  with  extended  arms,  and  re- 
ceived in  hie  enthusiastic  embrace — whom  do 
you  think  ? 

"Coralie,  half-atifled  for  wont  of  air,  and 
nearly  dead  with  fright"  suggested  Mr.  Tape. 

"That  rascally  Sous-lieutenant  Victor!  half 
drank  with  br.indy-and  water,"  roared  Cap- 
tain Smith,  who  bad  by  this  time  worked 
himself  into  a  state  of  great  excitement.  "At 
the  same  m'-ment  in  ran  Jeannette,  and.  I 
could  hardly  believe  my  eyes,  that  Jezebel 
Coralie,  followed  by  half-a-dozen  French  vcl- 
tigeurs,  screaming  with  laughter  1  I  saw  I 
was  done,"  continued  Mr.  Smith,  "but  not  for 
the  moment  precisely  how,  and  but  (or  bis 
comrades,  I  should  have  settled  old  and  new 
scores  with  Master  Victor  very  quickly.  As 
it  was,  they  h  d  some  difficulty  in  getting  him 
out  of  my  clutches,  for  I  was,  as  you  may  sap- 
pose,  awlully  savage.  An  hour  or  so  after- 
ward, when  philosophy,  a  pipe,  and  some  very 
capital  wine — they  were  not  bad  fellows  those 
voltigeurs — had  exercised  their  soothing  in- 


1« 


XHE    SAMP    FOLLOWER. 


go€HC8, 1  was  il2ferai4d  oi'  t'^a  «xa«5  motiyes 
and  partitulayg  ot'  the  tri«k  w'uick  had  been 
phyed  Bie.  Coralie  was  Vicor  Dafoa's  wife. 
He  bad  been  woanded  at  the  ajMult  of  Bada- 
joa.,  and  successfully  coBcealwu  i  that  Anda- 
iusiaii  woman's  house  ;  and  ;i3  ■•  ae  best,  per- 
haps only  mode  of  saving  him  from  a  Spanish 
prison,  or  worse,  the  scheme,  of  which  I  had 
been  the  victim,  was  concocted.  Had  not 
Dufour  wounded  me,  they  would,  I  was  as- 
sored,  have  thrown  themselves  upon  my  honor 
and  generosity — which  honor  and  generosity, 
by-the-by,  would  never  haye  got  Coralie's 
husband  upon  my  back,  I'll  be  sworn  !" 

"You  will  forgive  u.«,  mon  cher  captaiue  ?" 
said  that  lady,  with  one  of  ht;-  sweetest  smiles, 
as  she  handed  me  a  cup  of  wine.  "In  love  and 
war,  y6u  know,  every  ihinj?  is  fair." 

•'A  soldier,  gentlemen,  is  not  made  of  ada- 
mant. I  was,  I  confess,  soitoued  :  and  by  the 
time  the  parljy  broke  up,  we  weix-  all  the  best 
friends  in  the  world." 

"And  so  that  fat,  jolly  looking  Madame 
Dufour  we  saw  in  Paris,  is  the  beautiful  Co- 
ralie that  bewitched  Captain  Smith  ?'"  said 
Mr.  Tape,  thoughtfully— "Well !" 

•'She  was  younger  forty  years  ago,  Mr. 
Tape,  than  when  you  saw  her.  Beautiful  Co- 
ralies  are  rare,  1  fancy,  at  her  present  age, 
and  -vtry  fortunately,  too,  in  my  opinion," 
continued  Captain  Smith  ;  "for  what,  I  should 
like  to  know,  would  become  of  the  peace  and 
comfort  of  society,  if  a  woman  oi  sixty  could 
bewitch  a  man  as  easily  as  she  does  at  six- 
teen?" 


"Look  at  Home." — Re\.  John  Hur- 
rion,  a  christian  minister  in  Norfolk, 
England,  had  two  daughters  wjio  were 
fond  of  dress,  and  on  this  account  gave 
him  great  grief.  He  had  often  private- 
ly reproved  them,  but  in  vain  ;  at  length, 
while  preaching  one  Lord's  day,  lie  took 
occasion  to  notice,  among  other  things, 
pride  in  dress.  After  speaking  for 
some  time  on  the  subject,  he  suddenly 
stopped  and  said  with  much  feeling, 
"But,  jou  will  say  look  at  home.  My 
good  friends,  I  do  look  at  home  'till  my 
heart  aches." 


Good  taste  and  nature  i^lwaya  speak  the 
same. 


Knowledge  may  slumber  in  tlie 
memory,  but  h  never  dies  ;  it  is  like 
the  dormouse  in  the  ivied  tower,  that 
sleeps  while  vyinter  lasts,  but  awakes 
with  the  warm  breath  of  Spring. 


A'  fashionable  Doctor  lately  informed 
his  friends  in  a  large  company,  that  he 
had  been  passing  eight  days  in  the 
country. 

'Yes,'  said  one  of  the  party,  'it  has 
been  annuuuced  in  one  of  the  journals.' 

'Ah,'  sai.I  the  doctor,  stretching  his 
neck  very  important,  'pray  in  what 
terms  ?' 

'In  what  terms  ?  Why,  as  well  as  I 
can  remember,  is  nearly  in  the  follow- 
ing:— Jhere  was  last  week  seventy- 
seven  interments  leas  than  the  week 
before.' 


Longfellow  says  that  Sunday  is  the 
golden  clasp  that  binds  together  the 
volume  ui'the  week. 

No  woman  should  paint  except  she 
who  has  lost  the  power  of  blushing. 


We  are  indebted  to  Mrs  Caudle  for 
the  following  : 

Men  brandy  driuk,  and  never  think, 
Tkat  girls  at  all  can  tell  it.; 

They  don't  suppose  that  woman's  nose 
Was  ever  made  to  smell  it. 


A  Good  One. — 'Husband,  I  hope  you 
have   no  objection  to  my  being  weisrl; 
ed?' 

'Certainly  not,  my  dear  ;  but  why  do 
you  ask  V 

'Only  to  ascertain  if  you  will  let  me 
have  my  weigh  once.' 

^ — ' 

A  youth  without  enthusiasm  of  some 
kind  would  be  as  unnatural  a  thing  as 
spring-time  without  wild  flowers. 


THB   OAKP  poi*«wma. 


It 


ib  is  the  opiuiun  of  a  western  editor 
that  wood  goes  further  when  left  oat  of 
doors  than  when  well  honeed .  He  says 
some  of  his  went  half  a  mile. 


Excuse  me,  madam,  but  I  would  like 
to  ask  why  you  look  at  me  so  savagely. 
'Oh  !  beg  your  pardon,  sir  !  I  took  you 
for  my  husband.' 


Dr.  Brcckcnridge  says  that  it  is  the 
characteristic  of  Keiituckians  not  to 
promise  much,  bat  that  they  always  per- 
form what  they  promise. 

What  is  it  you  must  keep  after  you 
have  given  it  to  another?     Your  word. 


A  hospitable  man  is  never  ashamed 
of  his  dinner  when  you  come  to  dine 
with  him. 


Four  lines  more  beautiful  than  these 
are  rarely  written  The  figure  which 
it  involves  is  exquisite. 

'A  solemD  tnarmar  in  the  son! 

Tells  of  the  world  to  be, 
As  travelers  hear  the'billowa  roB 

Before  they  reach  the  sea.' 


Calumny  may  be  defined,  a  mixture 
©f  truth  and  falsehood  blended  with 
malice. 


'Have  you  ever  broVen  a  horse  !'  in- 
quired a  horse  jockey.  'No,  not  exactly,' 
replied  Simmona  'But  I  have  broken 
three  or  four  wagons.' 


What  kind  of  sweetmeats  were  most 
prevalent  in  Noah's  Ark  ?  Preserved 
pairs. 


All  that  glitters  is  not  gold. 


One  of  the  toasts  drank  at  a  recent 
celebration,  was — '  Woman  I  She  needs 
no  eulogy,  she  spbaks  foe.  kbrsklp  V 


HOW    I    COATED    SAL, 

BY  PBTER    8P0RUM,    ESQ. 

Well,  you  see  arter  the  'poker'  scrape, 
me  an  Sal  got  along  only  midlin  weH 
for  sum  time,  tell  I  made  up  my  mind 
to  fetch  things  to  a  hed,  fur  I  luved  her 
harder  and  harder  every  day,  an  I  bad 
a  idea  that  she  had  a  sorter  sneaking 
kindness  'ur  me,  but  how  to  doo  the 
thing  up  rite  pestered  me  orful — I  got 
sum  luv  h>ook,  and  red  how  the  fellers 
got  down  on  their  marrerbones  and 
talked  li^o  polks,  and  how  the  gals  they 
wud  go  into  a  sorter  transe,  and  then 
how  tiiey  wud  gently  fall  inter  the  fel- 
ler's arms,  but  surnhow  or  uther,  that 
way  didn't  sute  my  noshun.  I  axed  mam 
how  dad  coated  her,  but  she  sed  it  had 
bin  so  long,  that  she'd  forgot  all  about 
it,  (uncle  Jo  allers  sed  mam  dun  all  the 
coatin) — at  last  I  made  up  my  mind  to 
go  it  blind,  fur  this  thing  was  fairly  a 
consummin  ray  innards,  so  I  goes  over 
to  her  daddy's  (that's  Sals,)  and  when  I 
got  thar,  I  sot  like  a  fool,  thinkin  how 
to  begin.  Sal  seed  sumthin  was  a  trub- 
lin  uv  me  and  ses, 

See  she,  'Aint  you  sick,  Peter  ?' 

She  sed  this  tnity  soft  like. 

'Yes— no'  ses  T,  'that  is — I  aint  ad- 
zackly  well — I  thot  I'd  cum  over  to- 
nite,'  SOB  I, 

That's  a  mity  putty  beginnin  any  hovr, 
thinks  I,  so  I  tried  agin. 

'Sal,'  ses  I,  an  by  this  time  I  felt  mity 
fainty  an  oneasy  like  about  the  squize- 
rinctum. 

'Whi)t,'  ses  Sal. 

'Sal,'  ses  I  agin. 

'Whot,'  ses  she. 

I'll  git  tu  it  arter  a  while  at  this  lick, 
thinks  I. 

'Peter,'  ses  ahe,  'thar's  sumthin  a 
trublin  you  powerful,   I  no,  :  its  mity 


18 


THE    CAMP    FOLLOWER. 


rong  for  you  too  keep  it  frum  a  body, 
fur  an  innard  sorrer  is  a  consumin  fire, ' 
She  sed  this,  she  did,  the  deer,  sly  cree- 
tur — she  need  what  was  the  matter  all 
the  time  mity  well,  and  was  jist  a  tryin 
to  fish  it  out,  but  I  wus  so  fur  gone,  I 
did'nt  see  the  pint.  At  last  I  sorter 
gulped  down  the  lump  as  was  a  risin 
in  my  throte,  and  ses : 

Ses  I,  'Sal,  do  you  luv  enny  body  ?' 

'Well,'  ses  she,  'thar's  dad,  and  mam, 
an  (2i  countin  on  her  fingers  all  the 
time,  with  her  ise  sorter  shet  like  a  fel- 
ler shootin  uv  a  gun)  an  thar's  old  Pide, 
[that  wur  an  ole  cow  uv  hern]  an  I  can't 
think  uv  enny  body  else  jis  now'  ses 
she. 

Now,  this  wur  orful  fu^  a  feller  ded 
in  luv,  so  arter  a  while  I  tries  anutlier 
shute. 

Ses  I,  'Sal,  I'm  powerful  ionesum  at 
home,  an  I  sumtimes  thinks  ef  I  only 
had  a  nice  putty  wife  to  luv  an  to  talk 
to,  an  to  move  and  hav  my  beiu  with, 
I  would  be  a  tremenduous  feller.' 
■  With  that  she  begins  an  names  over 
all  the  gals  m  five  miles  uv  thar,  an 
never  wunst  come  a  nigh  namin  uv  her- 
self, and  sed  I  orter  git  wun  uv  them. 
This  sorter  got  my  dander  up  ;  so  I 
hitched  my  cheer  up  close  to  hern,  and 
sed,  • 

'Sal,  you  are  the  very  gal  I've  bin  a 
hankerin  arter  fur  a  iong  time.  I  luv 
you  all  over,  from  the  sole  uv  yore  hed 
to  the  foot  of  yore  crown,  an  I  don't 
keer  who  nose  it ;  an  if  jou  say  so, 
we'll  be  jined  on  tugether  in  the  holy 
bands  of  matrimony,  e  pluribns  unum, 
world  without  end,  amen,'  ses  I  ;  an  I 
felt  like  I'd  throed  up  a  alligater,  I 
felt  so  releeved.  With  that  she  fetched 
a  sorter  scream,  and  arter  a  wjiile  ses. 

'Ses  she,  'Peter.' 

'Whot,  Sally,'  ses  I. 

'Yes,'  ses  she,  a  hidin  her  putty  face 
behind  her  hans.  You  may  depend  on 
it,  I  felt  good. 

'Glory  !  Glory  !'  ses  I.     'I  must  hol- 


ler, Sal,  or  I'll  bust  wide  open.  Hoorah 
for  hooray — I  kin  jump  over  a  ten  rale 
fense,  I  kin  butt  a  bull  ofi"  uv  the  bridge, 
an  kin  do  enny  an  everything  that  enny 
uther  feller  ever  could,  would,  should, 
or  orter  do.' 

With  that  I  sorter  sloshed  miself 
down  bi  her,  and  clinched  her,  and 
seeled  the  bargin  with  a  kiss,  an  sich  a 
kiss — talk  about  yore  shugar — talk 
about  yore  nierlarsis,  talk  about  yore 
black  berry  jam,  you  couldd't  a  got  me 
too  cum  a  nigh,  thay  wud  all  a  tasted 
sour  arter  that. 

Oh,  these  wimmin,  how  good  an  how 
bad,  how  hi  an  how  lo  thay  kin  make  a 
feller  feel — ef  Sal's  daddy  hadn't  a  hol- 
lered out,  it  wur  time  fur  all  onest  fokes 
to  be  in  bed,  I  do  beleeve  I'd  a  staid 
thar  all  nite.  You  orter  a  seed  me 
when  I  got  home.  I  pulled  dad  outer 
bed  an  I  hugged  him,  I  pulled  mam 
outer  bed  an  I  hugged  her,  I  pulled 
ant  Jane  outer  bed  and  I  hugged  her. 
I  roared,  I  snorted,  I  cavorted,  I  lafied 
an  hollored,  I  erode  like  a  rooster,  I 
dansed  about,  an  cut  up  more  capers 
than  yu  ever  heai*n  tell  on,  tell  dad 
thought  I  wus  crazy,  an  got  a  ro^e  too 
ti  me  with, 

'Dad,'  ses  I,  "'I'm  a  gwine  too  be  .mar- 
rid.' 

'Marrid  V  bawled  dad. 

'Marrid  !'  squalled  mam. 

'Marrid  !'  squeaked  ant  Jane, 

'Yes,  marrid,'  ses  I,  'marrid  all  over 
— marrid  too  be  shore — marrid  like  a 
flash —  jined  in  wedlock — hooked  on 
fur  wusser  or  fur  better,  fur  life  and 
fur  death  to  Sal,  I  am — that  very  thing 
— me,  Peter  Sporum,  Esquire' 

With  that  I  ups  and  tells  em  all 
about  it,  from  Alpher  to  Omeger.  Thay 
wus  all  mitely  pleesed,  and  mity  willin, 
an  I  went  too  bed  as  proud  as  a  young 
rooster  with  his  fust  spurs.  Oh,  Je- 
hosaphat,  but  did'nt  I  feel  good,  an 
keep  a  gittin  that  way  all  nite.  I 
did'nt  sleep  a  wink,  but  kep  a  rolin 


THE     CAMr    FOLLOWER. 


19 


about,  and  a  thinkin  and  a  thinkiu,  tell 
I  felt  like  my  cup  uv  happiness  wur 
chock  jFull,  pressed  down,  and  a  runnin 
over.  I'll  tell  you,  sura  uv  these  days, 
about  the  weddiu  an  all  uv  iliat,  an  how 
I  dun,  an  how  Sal,  she  dun,  and  so  forth 
an  so  on. 


A  Child  of  Prayer. 

A  little  child,  with  chesnut  hair. 

And  gentle  eyes  of  blue. 
And  rosy  cheeks  and  crimsdT)  li]!?; 

Love's  owu  appropriate  hue. 
Knelt  ia  the  morning's  golden  blush. 

And  raised  her  small  hand.s  fair,' 
And  whispered  in  her  lisping  tones, 

•'Dear  Father,  hear  my  prayer  !" 

'.lie  smiling  sunbeams  danced  and  played. 

Around  the  iineeling  child, 
And  lighted  up  with  holy  light 

Her  features  calm  and  mild  ; 
.  iie  amber  gleams  seemed  loth  to  leave 

Her  clouds  of  waving  hair ; 
And  lisieoed  while  those  sweet  hp^  said. 

"Dear  FatJier,  hear  my  prayer  '." 

( 'li.  blessed  child,  keep  ever  pure 

From  sin's  enticing  wile. 
And  let  thy  happy,  youthful  brow 

Rest  ever  in  God's  smile  ; 
And  by  and  by  thy  feet  shall  press 

The  heavenly  mea  iows  fair  ; 
And  thou  shalt  chant  in  noble  strains. 

'■I''\<ir  Father,  hear  my  prayer  !" 


Dr.  Hall  says'  men  regard  their  wives 
as  angels  one  month  before  marriage 
and  one  after  death  ;  and  all  the  rest 
of  the  time  as — Devils.  Oh,  doctor, 
for  shame. 


A  celebrated  writer  used  to  observe 
that  the  paradise  of  the  author  was  to 
compose,  bis  purgatory,  to  revise  his 
production,  and  his  hell,  to  correct  the 
printer's  proof 


flogging  a  woman,  and  excused  there- 
for, by  saying  he  was  near  sighted,  and 
thoufjht  it  was  his  wife. 


A  wag,  speaking  of  a  blind  wood 
sawyer,  says  that,  'while  none  ever  saw 
Ijim  see,  thousands  have  seen  him  saw.' 


Rowland  Hill  said  once  to  some  peo- 
ple wlio  had  come  into  his  chapel  to 
avoid  the  rain  : 

'Many  people  are  to  be  blamed  for 
making  religion  a  cloak  ;  but  I  do  not 
think  thoqe  muck  i'ftter  who  make  it 
an  umbrella.'' 


A  Jersy  man  was  lately  arrested  for 


A  Successful  Retort. — A  cler<iyman 
was  once  accosted  by  a  doctor,  a  pro- 
fessed Deist,  who  asked  him  'if  b^  fol- 
lowed oreaching  to  save  souls  ?' 

'Yes> 

'Did  you  ever  see  a  soul  ?' 

•No/ 

'Did  vou  ever  hear  a  soul  T 

'No.'' 

'Did  you  ever  taste  a  soul  V 

'No.' 

'Did  you  ever  smell  a  soul  T 

'No.'  • 

'Did  vou  ever  feel  a  soul  ?' 

'Yes.' 

'Well,' said  the  doctor,  'there  are  five 
of  the  five  senses  against  one,  upon  the 
question,  whether  there  bo  a  soul.' 

The  clergyman  then  asked  'if  he  were 
a  doctor  of  medicine  ?' 

'Yes.' 

'Well,'  said  the  clergyman,  'did  you 
ever  see  a  pain  V 

'No.' 

'Did  you  ever  hear  a  pain  V 

'No.' 

'Did  you  ever  taste  a  pain  ?' 

'No.' 

'Did  you  ever  smell  a  pain  ?' 

'No.' 

'Did  you  ever  feel  a  pain  V 


20 


•?HE    OAMP    POI^OWEm 


'Yes.' 

'Well,  then,  there  Are  also  io^t  senses 
agaiBBt  one,  upon  the  question,  whether 
there  be  a  pain  ;  and  yet,  sir,  yon  know 
that  there  is  a  pain,  and  I  kuow  that 
there  is  a  soul. 


The  young  man  who  stood  on  his  own 
meriie,  became  very  much  fatigued  with 
the  performance. 


The  bravest   heart  oft  contains  the 
most  humility. 


Whar  no  Wood  is,  thar  the  Fire 
Goeth  out— And  they  Played  on 
SimbblSj  Dulcimers,  Je^syshaips. 
and  Demijjhns. 

The  following  discourse,  delivered  by 
that  "same  old  coon, '  the  captain  of  a 
Mississippi  flat-boafc,  at  a  Hard  Shell 
Baptist  protracted  meeting  at  Tinicum, 
was  phonographiciilly  reported  express- 
ly for  the  Mercury,  h^  '  'Samuel  the 
Scribe,"  who  was  one  or  the  anxious  in- 
quirers f)n  that  solemn  and  interesting 
occasion  ; 

My  Friends  ;  Since  I  had  the  plea- 
sure uv  holdiu  fojth  to  toe  benighted 
an  heathenish  rapscallions  uv  Brandon, 
Mississippi,  on  the  subjeck — ''An  he 
played  on  a  harp  uv  a  thousand  strings, 
sperrits  of  just  men  made  perfeck" — 
the  sperrit  hath  moved  me  to  take  up 
my  bed  and  travel  ;  and  after  visiting 
divus  places  an  propagatin  fciie  Gospill 
to  varus  noini nations,  I  have  at  last 
fetched  up,  bless  the  Lord,  raong  the 
Hard  Siiells  of  Tinicum.  My  tex  this 
eveniii,  my  bretheiing,  will  be  found 
somewuar  tween  the  books  uv  Provi- 
dence an  MillRizedick  (I  think  the 
former)  and  when  fnutid  it  will  read 
somewhar  near  as  follows:  "Wliur 
no  wood  is,  thar  the  fire  goeth  out — an 
they  played  on  siinbols,  dufsimers,  jews- 
harps  and  dimmyjons." 


Now,  my  brethering,  Fm  gwine  to 
say  to  you  as  I  said  to  the  Brando- 
nians  on  a  former  casion,  I'm  not  ao 
educated  man,  but,  blesa  the  Lord,  I'na 
a  mighty  rcligash  man,  a  man  what's 
born  agin — one  what  sperieneed  the 
holy  ghost,  and  tuk  religun  in  the  natral 
way — for  "wbar  no  wood  is,  thar  the 
fire  goeth  out — and  they  played  on  eim- 
bols,  dullsimer-,  jewsharps  and  dimmy- 
jons." 

Now,  my  brethering,  p'rhaps  some  uv 
ye  are  ■  wohderin  an  arin  yourselves 
what  denominashun  I  longs  to.  Well, 
my  friends,  I'm  a  plain  spoken  man, 
althongh  I  sea  it  myself,  as  oughtent  to 
say  it,  an  I'll  tell  yer  what  swayshun  I 
longs  to.  Perhaps  some  of  ye  thinks 
I'm  a  Mormon  ;  some  on  ye,  peradven- 
ture,  spisshuns  I'm  a  Millerite ;  sonie 
moK;  on  ye  may  kalkelate  I'm  a  Metho- 
diss,  an  others  uv  ye  may  imbibe  the 
noshun  that  I  ar  a  Free  Lovyer  ;  but  I 
tells  ye,  my  brethering,  ye  are  all  con- 
foundedly confumbustercated  if  ye  think 
any  sich  thing  ;  for,  in  the  language  of 
the  tex  :  "Whar  no  wood  is,  thar  the 
fire  g'^eth  out — and  they  played  on 
simbols,  dullsimers,  jewsharps  and  dim- 
myjons. 

Somehow,  I  oilers  tuck  amazing  Iiki» 
to  the  Baptists,  specially  to  the  Hard 
Shells — not  because  I'm  particularly 
fond  of  cold  water,  for,  my  brethering, 
I'm  not  one  uv  them  ar  sort  o'  Christ- 
ians that  repudiates  good  whiskey,  ok 
looks  a  gift  horse  in  the  mouth.  Thar'8 
the  Rach-shells,  the  soft-shells,  th« 
clam-shells,  an  a  great  many  other 
kind  uv  shells,  but,  my  brethering,  next 
to  the  Hard  Shells,  give  me  the  maa 
that  shells  out  liberally  when  the  con- 
tribushun  box  goes  roun— for,  "Whar 
no  wood  is,  thar  the  fire  goeth  out — »■ 
they  played  on  simbols,  dullcimers, 
jewsbarps  and  dimmyjons. 

Now,  my  brethering,  having  told 
you  what  swayshun  I  longs  to,  I'mi 
gwyue   to  exemflicate  and   lucidate  on 


WTE     CAJtP    BJIA-OWKE. 


21 


tttjtes,  which  se^,  "Whar  no  wood  is, 
tbax  the  fire  goethmit — and  they  played 
on  fiimbole,  dullsimers,  jewsharps  and 
dimmyjone.  My  brethering,  don't  sup 
po&e  for  tlie  sixteenth  part  uv  a  minit 
that  the  firc  we  read  uv  in  the  scripters 
will  go  out  bekase  thar's  no  wood  ? 
No,  my  christshun  friends,  8o  long  as 
the  supply  of  antbersit^  and  brimstone 
holds  out,  it  won't  make  a  dif  uv  bit- 
tercnce  whether  that's  any  wood  or  not 
the  fire  will  be  kept  burning  ;  for  they 
played  on  ^ircbols,  dullsinaers,  jewsharps 
and  dimmvjonf?. 

My  brethering,  when,  acoordiirto  the 
tex,  1  sez,  "they  played  onsimbols, 
dullBiiuers,  jewsharps  and  dimmyjoas," 
I.  mean  that  the  good  and  pi^riiek  sper- 
rits — thcni  uv  the  sixth  Bpe--*r -■  -plajs  on 
the  sinibols  and  dullsimers,  and  the  bad 
sperrits,  what  lives  in  the  lower  speers, 
plays  on  the  jewsharps  an<l  diiuinyjons, 
for,  ''Whar  Ji*  wood  is,  tJiar  the  fire 
goeth  out — and  tliey  played  — brether- 
ing,  I  smell  a  mice  I  Thar's  a  Judis  in 
this  congregashun,  sure  as  Y'iu  are 
livh)g  siunere,  and  he  must  be  dispelled! 
Ah,  I  told  you  so.  Thar  he  i-^,  yonder, 
on  that  high  seat  thar,  near  the  stove. 
That  weazen-faced  sinner  in  the  bar- 
skin  bang  up —a  wolf  in  bar's  clothen 
— Beltin  tliar  ae  innocent  as  a  possum 
up  a  eimmon  tree,  reportin  ray  lectur 
phrenologicallj.' 

At  this  juncture  all  eyes  were  fixed 
upon  uur  reporter,  who  also  began  to 
'"smell  a  mice,"  and  hastily  thrusting 
his  uotes  in  tlie  po^-'k'.t  of  his  "bar-skin 
bang  up,"  vamosed  through  a  side  win- 
dow, surrounded  by  a  blaze  of  glorj 
and  at  least  a  hundred  Hard  Sibils. 
—  ^M-  ■♦••♦•  -^m^— —  — 

Oroisa  pRETTT  Fast. — An  old  man 
and  his  son,  neither  of  them  very  well 
ittfurmed  aa  iv  the  railroads  and  their 
uses,  chanced  to  be  ai  work  one  day  in 
a  tield  near  a  railroad  track.  Railroads 
were  a  novel  'institution'  to  them,  and 
when  a  train  of  cara  ahot  by^  a  thought 


was  suggested  to  the  lad,  who  said  to 
his  parent,  'Dad,  why  don't  you  take  a 
ride  on  the  cars  some  day  ?' 

'Take  a  ride  in  the  cars  ?  why  I  hain't 
•  got  time,  my  son.' 

'Got  time  1  tliundor  [     Yo  can  go  any 
where  in  the  cars  quicker  than  you  can 
[  stay  at  home.' 
'      'Dad's  reply  is  not  on  recoi-d. 

I  No  man  can  avoid  his  own  companj, 
1  so  he  had  better  make  it  as  good  as 
I  passible. 


How  melancholy  the  moon  must  feel 
when  it  has  enjoyed  the  fullness  of 
prosperity,  and  got  reduced  to  its  last 
quarter. 

The  last  case  of  absense  of  mind  is 
that  of  a  ship  carpenter,  who  bit  off  the 
end  of  a  spike  and  drove  a  plug  of  to- 
bacco in  the  vessel's  bottom. 


An  Irishman  ti-ying  to  put  out  a  gaa 
light  with  nis  fiii'/ers,  cried  out — 

'Ocl),  murder  !  the  devil  a  wick's  in 
it.' 

— M^av-  -«^>-«^ — — — 

'My  lad,'  said  a  lady  to  a  boy,  car- 
rying an  empty  mail  bag,  'are  jou  a 
mail  boy  ?' 

'Y<'ii  don't  think  I'm  a  female  boy, 
do/,  you  ?' 

'Vat  you  makes  dare?'  hastily  in- 
quired a  Dutchman  of  his  daughter, 
who  whs  being  kissed  by  her  sweet- 
heart very  clamorously.  'Oh,  not  much 
— just  courting  a  little — that's  all.' 
'Oho  !  dat's  all,  eh  ?  py  tarn.  I  taught 
you  vas  vighting.' 

—  -— — *^.  -*«*.  ■•^^■^— 

"A  litllo  nonsense  now  and  tiiea 
Is  relished  by  the  wisf^st  men  !•" 


22 


THE    CAMP    FOLLOWED. 


'Mary,  I'm  glad  your  heel  has  got 
weU.' 

'Why  ?'  said  Mary,  opening  wide  her 
large  blue  eyes  in  astonishment. 

'Oh,  nothing,"  said  Mag,  'only  I  sec 
its  al)le  to  h&flut  P 


A  gipsy  woman  promised  to  show 
two  young  ladies  their  husband's  faces 
in  a  pail  of  water.  They  looked  and 
exclaimed  : 

'Why,  we  only  see  our  faces/ 
'Well,'  said  the  Gipsy,    'those   faces 
will  be  your  husband's   when  ^^ou    are 
married.' 


'Ma,  didn't  the  minister  say  last  Sun- 
day that  the  sparks  flew  upward  ?' 

'Yes,  my  dear,  how  came  you  to  be 
thinking  of  it  ?' 

'Because  yesterday  I  saw  cousin 
Sally's  spark  staggering  along  the  street 
and  falling  downwards .'' 

'Here  Bridget,  put  this  child  to  bed 
— she  must  be  sleepy. 


Matrimony  should  be  a  sterescope, 
in  which  two  hearts,  though  they  may 
slightly  differ;  -appear  to  the  observer 
as  one. 


If  you  wish  to  cure  a  scolding  wife, 
never  fail  to  laugh  at  her  with  all  your 
might  until  she  ceases,  then  kiss  her. 
Sure  cure,  and  no  quack  medicine  I' 


A  shrewd  little  fellow  who  just  begun 
to  read  Latin,  astonished  his  master  by 
the  following  translation  :  'Vir,  a  man  ; 
gin,  a  trap.     Virgin,  a  man  trap.' 

Waggery. — Seme  time  ago,  ^n  the 
Sabbath  day,  we  wended  our  way  to 
one  of  our  churches,  and  instead  of  a 
sermon,  heard  an  address  upon  some 
missionary  or  other  benevolent  subject. 
After  the  address  was  concluded,  two 


brethren  were  sent  round  with  the.  bas- 
kets for  contributions.     Parson  L -^ 

who  was  one  of  the  basket  bearers, 
taking  the  side  upon  which  we  sat. 
Immediately  in  our  front,  and  upon  the 
next  seat,  negligently  reclined  our  friend 
Bill  H ,  a  gentleman  of  infinite  hu- 
mor  and   full   of  dry  jokes.      Parson 

L extended   the   basket,  and  Bill 

slowly  shook  his  head.  ' 

'Come,  William,  give  us  something,' 
said  the  parson. 

'  Can't  do  it,'  replied  Bill. 

'Why  not?  Is  not  the  cause  ;i  good 
one  V 

'Yes,  but  I  am  not  able  to  give  any- 
thing. 

'Pob  !  poh  !  I  know  better,  you  must 
give  a  better  reason, than  that.' 

'Well,  I  owe  too  much  money — ;I 
must  be  just  before  I  am  generous,  you 
know.' 

'But,  William,  you  owe  God  a  larger 
debt  than  you  owe  any  else.' 

'That's  true,  parson,  but  then  Jie  ain't 
pushing  me  Like  the  ballance  of  my  cred- 
itors.''    "  '       ■ . 

The  parson's  face  got  into  rather  a 
curious  condition,  and  he  passed  on. 


Education  does  not  commence  with 
the  alphabet — it  begins  with  a  mother's 
love  ;  a  father's  smile  of  approbation, 
or  a  sign  of  reproof;  with  a  sister's 
gentle  forbearance  :  with  a  handful  mI" 
flow(;rs  in  a  green  and  dainty  meadow  ; 
with  bird's  nests  admired,  ,but  not 
touched  ;  with  creeping  ants,  and  al- 
most imperceptible  emmets  ;  with  pleas- 
ant walks  in  shady  lands,  and  with 
thoughts  directed  in  sweet  and  kindly- 
tones  and  words  to  nature,  to  acts  of 
benevolence,  to  deeds  of  virtue,  and  to 
the  source  of  all  good— to  God'himseif 

WoMAx. — Tlic  social  conquerer  •■  f  our 
sex.  To  surrender  is  our  triumph  ;  to 
resist,  our  misfortune.  , 


THE    CAMP    FOLLOWER. 


23 


John  asked  Julia  if  she  would  have 
him.  'No,  she  said,  'I  will  not  have 
you  ;  but  before  John  could  recover 
from  the  shock,  she  archly  put  in.  'but 
you  may  have  me.'' 


A   rural  poet  has  just  gotteu  up 
following  and  retired  to  private  life 
I  wood  not  die  in  Spring  tiem, 
wen  frawgs  begin  to  crawl — 
Wen  kabbage  plats  are  shutin  up. 
noe  !  I  wood  not  die  at  all. 


the 


All  men  would  be  masters  of  others, 
and  no  man  is  lord  of  himself. 


NEVER ! 

They  will  crush  us,  never  I  never ! 

While  we  scorn  to  wear  their  chain  ; 
They  may  seek,  as  slaves  to  bind  us-*- 

We  will  rise  a-jd  strike  again  : 
Though  each  time  we  fail  to  thwart  them. 

TVe  will  die  than  think  to  yield  ; 
We  may  perish  but  we'll  never 
"'  Leave  a  stain  upon  our  shield. 

They  may  tread  our  soil  bat  never 

'    Will  we  their  dominion  own, 

We  will  drive  them  from  our  border — 

We  will  cause  their  land  to  moan — 
We  will  teach  them  lore  unheeded  ; 

They  have  set  with  grief  to  learn. 
We  will  bow  submissive,  never. 

We  will  still  their  mission  spurn. 

We  will  be  their  subjects,  never ! 

Let  them  search  the  past,  whose  page 
Teems  with  wisdom  taught  and  spoken 

By  the  patriot  and  the  sage ; 
We  have  sworn  to  know  them,  never. 

AVhilc  the  light  ot  Freedom's  sun 
>hcd3  a  lingering  ray,  we"ll  'mind  them 

Of  the  name  of  Washington. 

They  our  braves  will  conquer,  never  ! 

We  will  still  be  proud  and  free ; 
Exiled  they  may  force  our  loved  ones 

From  their  homes  afar  to  flee, 
Bat  the  hearts  that  nerve  us  never 

Will  to  tyrants  basely  bow, 
While  their  livt  s  the  Fonl  of  honor 

Or  the  laurel  wreathes  the  brow. 


We  will'3well  in  bondage,  never ! 

While  the"  light  that  gilds  the  past 
Glows  with  feats  of  fame  and  valor 

Or  the  deeds  of  heroe's  last : 
We  will  wear  their  shackles,  never, 

While  we  think  of  Greece  and  Borne, 
We  will  vow  to  fight  for  ever 

For  our  birth-right  and  our  home. 

We  will  be  their  vassals,  never ! 

They  our  land  may  desolate — 
We  will  build  anew  our  altars, 

And  sustain  the  pride  of  State  ; 
We  will  link  our  fortunes,  never, 

To  their  vandal,  thieving  race  ; 
We  will  die,  than  live  to  suffer 

As  the  victims  of  disgrace. 

We  will  ask  no  peace,  no,  never ! 

While  the  foe  is  in  our  land  ; 
We  will  scorn  the  boon  when  proffered 

With  a  firm,  relentless  hand  ;       ^ 
We  will  ask  no  favor,  never ! 

For  the  God  in  Heaven  above 
Will  reward  both  Truth  and  Justice 

With  the  law  of  life  and  love. 

.T.  R.  BARRICK. 


A  Western  editor  says  that,  'a  child 
was  run  over  by  a  wagon  three  years 
old,  and  cross-eyed,  with  pantalets  on, 
which  never  spoke  afterwards.' 


'Mother,'  said  a  little  urchin  the 
other  day,  'why  are  orphans  the  happi- 
est children  on  earth  ?'  'They  are  not, 
my  child  ;  but  what  makes  you  ask 
that  question  ?'  'Because  they  have 
no  mother  to  spank  'em.' 

Virtue  and  Vice. — If  thou  take  pains 
in  what  is  good,  the  pains  vanish,  the 
good  reniai!;?  ;  if  thou  take  pleasure  in 
what  is  evil,  the  evil  remains  and  the 
pleasure  \:.:iishes  ;  what  art  thou  the 
worse  for  j-iiiis,  or  the, better  for  pleas- 
ure, when  both  are  past  ? — Euchiridion 


Pride  rociiiires  very  costly  food — its 
keeper's  happiness. 


24 


TOE    OAMP   rOIXOVTES.. 


A  SCENE  IK  CAUFORHIA. 

A  man,  tidily  and  respectably  dressed 
in  a  black  frock  ooat  and  dark  trowsers, 
bad  oome  regnlarly  for  some  evenings 
— this  was  the  seventh — always  at  the 
same  time  and  to  the  same  table  ;  had 
for  a  while  looked  on  at  the  game,  and 
at  last  dra-wn  a  linen  bag  out  of  his 
breast  pocket,  and  staked  it  on  a  card. 
On  the  first  evening  the  card  had  won  : 
and  he  shook  the  bag  out  upon  the  table 
lo  count  the  money.  There  were  twen- 
ty-eight Spanish  dollars,  upon  which 
the  banker  quietly  counted  out  to  him 
4he  same  sum,  and  the  gentleman  walked 
off  with  his  gains  without  venturing  a 
second  cast. 

On  the  second  evening  he  came  again, 
staked  as  before,  and  lost.  Quite  cool- 
ly, however,  without  even  a  look  of  dis- 
«ontent,  he  opened  the  bag,  shook  it  out 
— it  contained  exactly  the  same  sum  as 
on  the  last  occasion — then  rolled  it  to- 
gether and^  thrusting  it  into  hie  pocket, 
kft  the  saloon.  On  the  third,  fourth' 
and  fifth  evenings  the  same  thing  oc- 
curred. The  gamblers  had  got  used  to 
tibe  man,  and  amused  themselves  with 
bis  odd  ways.  Again  he  lost,  and  be- 
haved exactly  as  before,  always  taking 
the  bag  away  with  him. 

On  the  sixth  evening — and  so  exactly 
had  he  kept  his  time,  that  the  gamblers 
said,  laughing  to  each  other,  'It  can't 
be  eight  o'clock  yet  ;  the  eight-and- 
Iwenty  dollar  man  is  not  come' — he  ap- 
peared again  ;  staked  as  usual,  and 
o»ce  more  lost. 

The  bar  keeper,  who  dispensed  hia 
wines  and  spirits  just  opposite  to  this 
table,  could  not  forbear  laughing  aloud 
as  the  stranger  shook  out  the  money  in 
Ms  cool,  business  like  way,  as  if  paying 
a  regular  debt  for  some  employer, 
rather  than  gambling  and  throwing 
away  his  money. 

Tlie  seventh  evening  came — it  was  a 
full  minute  paat  eight  o'clock,  and  one 
«f  the  gamblers   said.  laughing,  to   the 


other  :  'We  have  used  him  too  badly, 
we  have  frightened  him  away  ;'  when 
his  comrade  pointed  over  his  shoulder, 
and  there  "was  the  man  in  the  blacl: 
frock-coat  making  his  way  to  his  cue- 
tomary  place,  where  some  who  had  hap- 
pened to  meet  him  there  before,  readily 
made  room  for  him,  and  where  he  qm- 
etly  took  his  seat,  paying  ao  attentioa 
to  the  whispered  jokes  and  laughter 
around  him.  Until  precisely  a  quarter 
of  nine,  he  gravely  watched  the  play, 
and  brought  out  the  well  known  linen 
bag,  setting  it  upon  the  deuce,  which 
was  that  moment  turned  up.  Two  cards 
were  drawn,  without  the  deuce  appear- 
ing— now  the  ace  fell  on  the  left  ;  and 
on  the  right — a  scarcely  perceptible 
smile  played  on'  the  banker's  lips — the 
deuce  I  The  stranger  turned  pale  as 
death  ;  but  without  uttering  a  word 
upon  his  change  of  luck,  he  stretched 
out  his  hand  for  his  linen  bag,  and  was 
untying  it,  as  usual,  to  count  the  dol- 
lars, when  the  gambler  said,  laughing  : 

'Let  it  be  ;  I  know  how  much  there 
is  in  it.  Eight-and-twenty.  Am  I  not 
right  ?' 

'No,'  said  the  man,  quietly,  and  shook 
out  the  silver  upon  the  table,  shook  th« 
bag  again,  and  after  the  silver  came  a 
roll  of  closely  wrapijed  bank  notes  and 
folded  paper. 

'What  is  this  V  cried  the  startled  gam- 
blers, and  the  by-standers  crowded  up 
full  of  surprise  and  curiosity, 

•*It  is  my  stake,*  said  the  man,  with 
seeming  indifiereuce,  and  untied  the 
ribbon  that  held  tlie  bank  notes  ko- 
gether. 

'Hold  1  That  won't  do,'  exclaimed 
the  gambler,  throwing  down  his  cardf. 
'That  is  false  play.  You  have  counted 
out  only  eight-and-twenty  dollars  Ae 
other  evenings.' 

'False  play  !'  repeated  the  man,  with 
a  threatening  frown.  'Prove  it  to  be 
false  play.  Did  I  not  place  the  bag 
just  as  it  lies  there,  upon  that   card  ? 


■EBE   «4JKr  roujorviBSi. 


86 


Aaid  did  yon  make  any  objection  to 
taking  it  unopened  ?' 

'No,  no.  It  is  all  right,  it  ie  all  fair,' 
<m«d  Uie  bystanders,  always  ready  and 
eager  to  take  part  against  the  profes- 
sional gamblers,  who,  they  feel  quite 
eonvinced.  do  not  play  fairly,  although 
they  cannot  resist  the  fascination  ot 
the  gaming-table,  but  return  again  and 
a^in  to  be  cheated  of  their  money  as 
loogasthey  have  any  to  squander  there. 

'He  has  staked  and  won  it,  and  he 
mast  have  it'  they  said. 

K}ount  your  money.  How  much  is 
ft  ?'  said  the  gambler,  who  had  whisper- 
ed a  few  hasty  words  to  his  comrade. 
'How  much  is  it  V 

'Firstly,  eight-and-twenty  dollars  in 
sfflver;'  he  replied,  slowly,  and  the  others 
laughed  ;  'then  here  in  bank  notes — 
otie,  two,  three,  four,  five,  six,  seven, 
eight  hundred  dollars;  and  then,  here — ' 

'What  I  more  ?^ 

'A  small  bill  of  exchange  upon  Smith 
sad  Punueken— aa  good  as  gold  and  ac- 
cepted and  all,  the  money  only  needs 
fetching  for  three  thousand.' 

Three  thousand  I'  shouted  tlie  gam- 
bier„  starting  up  from  his  chair,  'are 
you  mad  ?  That  is  altogether  near  tour 
thousand  dollars.     I  shall  not  pay  that.' 

'Shall  you  not  V  said  the  stranger. 
'Would  you  not  have  taken  it,  if  I  had 
lost  it?* 

'To  be  sure  he  would  ?  Of  course  ! 
Would  he  take  it  ?  Ay,  all  they  can 
get,  they  take — and  a  little  more  !'  ex- 
claimed a  number  of  voices.  'He  must 
pay-  -there  it  no  help  for  it  !' 

'Gentlemen,'  protested  the  gambler, 
in  the  vain  hope  of  obtaining  a  vote  in 
his  favor,  'gentlemen  have  staked — 

'And  every  time  lost,'  interrupted  one 
of  his  hearers.  'I  have  been  present 
several  times,  and  have  Ijeard  it  from 
others  also  ;  and  he  has  never  made 
the  leaa  objection  to  paying.' 

'But  that  was  only  twenty-eight  dol- 
lara'' 


'And  if  i    were  as  many  thooeand  T 

'Only  let  me  speak,'  remonstrated 
the  gambler,  who  had  turned  deadly 
pale,  and  trembled  all  over.  'It  wae 
but  eight-and-twenty  dollars  that  he 
shook  out  upon  the  table,  and  the  pa- 
pers he  held  back .  Three  times  already 
have  I  won  the  same  sum  from  him.' 

'Prove  that  I  had  a  cent  more  than 
the  eight-and-twenty  dollars  in  the  bag,' 
said  the  stranger,  contemptuously. — 
'Such  excuses  as  that  won't  serve  your 
turn.' 

'Why  did  you  not  keep  the  bag,  oom- 
panero  ?'  laughed  a  Spaniard,  who  stood 
by  ;  'we  keep  all  that  is  set  on  the 
card.' 

'If  *he  had  lost  again,  nothing  more 
would  have  come  out  of  that  confound- 
ed linen  bag  than  the  trumpery  dollars.' 
said  the  other,  savagely. 

'That's  possible ;  but  you  cannot 
prove  it,'  returned  the  lookers  on.  'Yob 
must  pay.' 

'You  have  won  a  hundred  dollars 
from  me  in  the  last  half  hour,'  exclaim- 
ed a  tall  Kentuckian,  pressing  forward 
over  the  shoulders  of  the  others,  'and  I 
had  to  pay  up  to  the  last  cent  ;  if  yoia 
reruso  to  pay  him,  you  must  fork  that 
out  again.' 

'And  mine,  tool'  'And  mine  V  'And 
mine  !'  cried  many  voices  together.  'I 
too.  have  lost.  'I  lost  t<;n  dollars  !' 
'I  lost  fifty.'  'I  lost  five-and-twenty.' 
*I  a  pound  of  gold  !  Out  with  it,  if  you 
won't  pay.' 

A  brother  gambler  now  eame  up 
from  a  neighboring  table,  and  spoke  in 
a  whisper  to  his  unlucky  comrade, 
whilst  the  tumult  was  increasing  around 
them.  The  <jther  contended  earnestly 
in  tlie  same  tone  for  some  minutes,  but 
yielded  at  length  to  his  jx^rsusionti, 
and  they  both  t<jok  the  money  to  count 
over  again  ;  earofuUy  examining  the 
bank  notes  a«  well  as  the  bill,  which 
was  drawn  ^n  one  of  the  first  banking 
houses  in  the  city. 


26 


THE    CAMP    FOLLOWER. 


There  was  nothing  to  be  said  against 
either  the  one  or  the  other  ;  and  whilst 
the  stranger,  who  had  recovered  his 
equanimity,  sat  quietly  on,  as  if  the 
hubbub  was  no  concern  of  his,  the  gam- 
blers counted  out  to  him  the  money  he 
had  won,  almost  stripping  the  table  of 
the  heaps  so  ostentatiously  piled  up. 
Part  of  the  payment  consisted  of  sever- 
al packets  of  gold  dust,  which  the' stran- 
ger, before  accepting,  cut  open,  ex- 
amined carefully,  and  then  weighed  at 
the  counter  just  opposite,  where  he  also 
took  a  glass  of  brandy.  He  found  all 
correct  and  disposing  of  the  gold  in  his 
various  pockets,  he  shook  what  remain- 
ed into  the  mysterious  linen  bag,  put 
the  papers  and  bank  notes  into  his 
breast  pocket,  and  courteously  thank- 
ing his  zealous  supporters  who  returned 
his  greeting  with  a  thundering  cheer, 
he  left  the  saloon. 

His  quandum  friends  laughed  and 
talked  over  the  occurrence  for  a  while. 
Of  all  present,  there  was  scarcely  one, 
probably,  who  did  not  feel  pretty  sure 
that  he  played  false,  that  he  had  his 
bank  notes  and  bills  in  the  bag  on  the 
proceeding  evening,  ready  to  be  pro- 
duced if  he  should  win;  but  this  they 
did  not  call  dishonest— it  was  a  clever 
trick.  The  gamblers  themselves  seized 
upon  everj'  advantage,  fair  or  unfair, 
that  came  in  tiieir  way  ;  and  every  one 
who  had  his  wits  about  him  would 
lood  out  for  himself.  Such  is  the  mo- 
rality of  the  gambling-house  ! 


A  Wife's  Prayer. 

If  there  is  anything  that  comes  near- 
er to  the  implorations  of  rRuth  and 
Naomi  than  the  subjoined,  we  have  not 
seen  it : 

'Lord  bless  and  preserve  that  dear 
person  whom  Thou  hast  chosen  to  be 
my  husband  ;  let  his  life  be  long  and 
blessed,  comfortable  and  holy  ;  and  let 
me   also  become  a  great    blessing  and 


comfort  to  him,  a  sharer  in  all  his  sor- 
rows, a  helpmate  in  all  the  accidents 
and  changes  in  the  world  ;  make  me 
amiable  in  his  eyes  and  forever  dear  to 
him.  Unite  his  heart  to  me  in  the  dear- 
est love  and  holiness,  and  mine  to  him 
in  all  its  sweetness,  charity  and  com- 
placency. 'Keep  me  from  all  ungentle- 
ness,  all  discontentedness  and  unrea- 
sonableness of  passion  and  humor,  and 
make  me  humble  and  obedient,  useful 
and  observant,  that  we  rn^y  delight' in 
each  other  according  to  Thy  blessed 
word  ;  and  both  of  us  may  rejoice  in 
Thee,  having  for  our  portion  the  love 
and  service  of  God  forever.' 


The  Pleasure  of  being  Young. 

Bulwer,  in  some  of  his  writings,  ex 
presses  it  as  his  deliberate  opinion  that 
no   enjoyment  of  manhood,  no  realiza- 
tion of  mature   years,  compensate  for 
the  loss  of  youth.     Richard  Henry  Stod- 
dard has   given  a   poetic  form  to  the 
same  truth,  in  the  following  lines  : 
There  are  gains  for'all  our  losses, 
'  There  are  balms  for  all  oar  pains ; 
But  when  youth,  the  dream,  departs, 
It  takes  something  from  our  hfarts. 
And  it  never  comes  again. 

We  are  stronger,  and  are  better, 

Under  manhood's  sterner  reign  : 
Still  we  feel  that  sometbiDg  sweet 
Followed  youth,  with  dying  feet, 
And  will  never  come  again. 

Somethisg  beautiful  is  vanished. 
And  we  sigh  for  it  in  vain  : 

We  behold  it  everywhere. 

On  the  earth,  and  in  the  air, 
But  it  never  comes  again ! 


Society  is  even  more  essential  to  our 
intellect  than  to  our  humanity.  Our 
affections  do  not  rust  as  quickly  as  our 
minds.  It  is  easier  to  pervert  than  to 
subdue  them,  while  the  latter  is  always 
pleased  to  be  beguiled  into  forgetfulness 
and  sleep. 


THE     CAMP    FOLLOWER. 


21 


THE  TWO  WORLDS. 

Two  worlds  there  are.    To  one  our  eyes  we 

etrain — 
Whose  magic  joys  we  shall  not  see  again  :  . 
Bright  haze  of  morning  veils  its  glim- 
mering shore. 
Ah,  truly  breathed  we  there 
Intoxicating  air —  [of 

Ulad  were  onr  hearts  in  that  sweet  realm 
Nevermore. 

The  lover  there  drank  her  delicious  breath, 
Whose  love  hiis  yielded  since  to  change  or 
dealh  :  ' 
The  mother  kisseii  her  child   wl)Oee  days 
are  o'er. 
Alas !  too  soon  arc  aO-i 
The  irreclaimable  deiAil  : 
Wc  see  them — visions  strangt— amiJ  the 
Nevermore 

The  merry  song  some  maidens  used  to  sing— 
The  brown,  brown  hair,  that  once  was  wont 
to  cling 
To   temples  Ion?  clay-cold— to  the  very 
core 
'  They  strike  our  vcary  hearts, 
As  bome  '^exed  memory  starts 
From  that  long-faced  land — the  realm  of 
Nevermore. 

It  is  perpetual  samm  t  there.     But  here 
Sadly  we  may  remember  rivers  clear, 

And  harebells  quivering  on  the  meadow- 
floor. 
For  brighter  bells  and  bluer, 
For  tender  hearts  and  truer. 
People  t.at  happy  land — the  realm  of 
Nevermore. 

.  Upon  the  frontier  of  this  shady  laud. 
We,  pilgrims  of  eternal  sorrow,  ptand. 

Wh'vt  realm  lies   forward,  with  its  hap- 
pier store 
Of  forests  green  and  deep, 
Of  valleys  hushed  in  sjeep. 
And  lakes  most  peaceful  ?  'Tis  the  land  of 
Evermore. 

Very  hr  off  it3  marble  cities  seem — 
V?-y  far  ofT — beyond  our  sensual  dream — 
It8  woods  nnruffled  by  the  wild   wind's 
roar : 
Yet  does  tha  turbulent  surge 
Howl  on  its  very  verge 


One  moment — and  wt  breathe  within  the 
Evermore. 

They  whom  we  loved  and  lost  so  long  ago 
Dwell  in  those  cities  far  from  mortal  woe- 
Hunt    those    fresh    woodlands,    whence 
sweet  carolings  soar. 
Eternal  peace  have  they  ; 
God  wipes  their  tears  awav  :       [for 
They  drink  that  river  of  life  which  flows 
Evermore. 

Thither  we  hasten  through  these  regions  dim, 
But  lo,  the  wide  wings  of  the  S«<i"aphim 

Shine  in  the  sunset  I  On  that  joyous  shore 
Our  lighted  hearts  shall  know 
The  life  of  long  ago  : 
Toe  sorrow-burdened  past  shall  fade  for 
Evermore. 


What  did  he  say,  Lydia  ? 

Good  old  Mrs.  Call  was  quite  hard  of 
hearing,  being  somewhat  advanced  in 
years.  Her  daughter,  L^'dia,  was  a 
bonny  lass,  who  loved  a  good  frolic  and 
knew  well  how  to  get  one  up.  Lydia 
had  avrangec^  a  junket,  and  the  young 
men  and  maids  were  all  on  hand. 
Among  the  vest  was  the  General,  one 
of  "em.  In  the  midst  of  tlie  fun  in  pop- 
ped old  Deacon  L .  to  see    how  the 

widow  fared.  This  was  a  wet  blanket 
upon  the  merriment,  and  the  deacon 
held  on  till  Lydia  was  put  out  of  all 
patience.  She  wished  that  he  would 
go,  and  by  and  by,  he  gets  up  to  depart. 

'Oh,  deacon,'  said  mother  Call'  'don't 
think  of  going  before  tea.  Oh  do  stop 
to  tea,  won't  you  V 

The  deacon  strongly  urged  replied  : 

'Well,  1  rather  think  I  will,  as  the 
folks  will  not  expect  me  home  till  dark.' 

'What  did  he  say,  Lydia  ?'  said  the 
widow.     Lydia  had  a  ready  answer. 

'He  savs  he  will  not  to-day,  mother, 
as  the  folks  expect  him  home  before  dark. 
Why,  how  deaf  you  grow,  mother.' 

'Ob,  well,  some  other  day,  deacon  ; 
now  won't  you  1'  said  mother  Call,  as 
she  showed  the  fleacon  out. 


28 


OHS    «MJilP   F>OL-Um£R. 


'Smart  gal  that,'  said  the  deacon,  as 
ke  trudged  along:  home.  'She'll  fiud  her 
"waj  through,  I'll  warrant. 

,    How  to  take  JJfe.  \ 

Take  life  like  a  man — take  it  by  tht' , 
foa*e-lock,  by  the  shoulders,  by  the  spine,  { 
by  every   limb  and  part.     Take   it  just 
as  though  it  was — as  it  is — an  earnest, 
vital  essential   affair.     Take  it  just  as  i 
ttiough  you  personally  was  born  to  the  j 
task  of  performing  a  merry  part  in  it ;  j 
as   though    the    world  had  waited    for] 
your   oomiug.     Take   it  as   though    itj 
was  a  grand   opportunity  to  do  and   to  i 
achieve  :  to  carry   forward   great   and  * 
good   scheme-s  ;    to   help    and    clieer  a 
s^iaffering,  weary,  it  may  be,  heart-sick- ! 
oaed  brother. 

The  fact  is,  life  L*  unvalued  by  a 
great  majority  of  mankind.  It  is  not 
Hiade  half  as  much  of  as  should  be  the 
case.  Where  is  the  man  or  wuman 
•whb  ac<Jomplishes  one  tithe  of  what 
might  be  done  ?  Who  cannot  look  back 
iq)on  opportunities  lost,  plans  un- 
adiieved,  thoughts  crushed,  aspirations 
imfillod,  and  all  becau.se  of  the  lack  ot 
the  noc^asary  and  possible  effort  ?  If 
we  knew  better  how  to  take  and  make 
the  most  of  life,  it  would  be  far  greater 
tban  it  is.  Now  and  then  a  man  stands 
aside  from  the  crowd,  labors  earnestly, 
Steadfastly,  confidently,  and  straight- 
wa  becomes  famous  for  wisdi.in,  intel- 
lect, skill,  greatness  of  some  sort.  The 
world  wonders,  admires,,  idoliiies  ;  and 
yet  it  only  illustrate,^  w  :at  each  may  do 
tf  he  takes  hold  of  '.'nc  witli  a  purpose 
— ^by  the  head  and  .shoulcjers.  If  a  man 
hai  say  he  will,  and  follows  it  up  by 
the  right  kind  of  effort,  there  ia  nothing 
in  reason  Iw  may  not  expect  to  accom- 
pUfth.  There  is  no  raagic,  no  miracle, 
m«  se-cret  to  him  who  is  brave  in  heart 
and  determined  ir.  spirit. 

— M^ 

i*raiae   is  aaLv  praise    wh&u  well   ad- 
Areseed. 


Iiove  of  the  Scriptures. 

(>h  love  the  Word  of  God, 
To  wandering  sinners  given, 

To  teach  them  all  about  the  road, 
Tltat  leads  from  earth  to  beayen. 

It  tells  ol  Him  who  died. 
Our  peace  with  God  to  make  ; 

ll  allows  how  God  Is  satisfied 
With  sinners  for  hig  sake. 

Such  precioas  promiee? . 

It  ^ives  lor  .time?  of  need  ; 
Ami  ail  th't  of  our  home  it  siys., 

].«  iK'antiful  indeed. 

It  shows  oa  what  to  do. 

If  we  witli  CluLst  would  dwdl. 

So  pitiinly  tlat  u  child  may  know. 
Who  only  it-ads  it  well. 

Eloquent  Appeal  of  a  Clergyman 
in  Favor  of  the  Bible. 


Among  a  number  of  speakers  present 
at  the  semicentennial  anniversary  of 
the  Pennsylvania  Bible  Society,  cele- 
brated at  Philadelphia,  on  Wednesday 
was  the  Rev.  Dr    Fuller,  of  Baltimore. 

He  c^)nunenc«d  his  address  witli  a  , 
feeling  allusion  to  the  absence  of  one 
whp  had  been  wont  to  preside  on  oe- 
casioiis  like  this — Kev.  Phillip  F. 
Mayer,  D.  D.,  lately  deceased.  He  then 
spoke  of  their  duty  to  the  Bible,  and 
said  that  here  in  Philadelphia,  where 
the  first  Sunday  school  was  formed, 
and  the  first  Union  Bible  Society  es- 
tablished, they  should  all  be  found 
ready  to  build  an  altar  on  which  the 
different  sects  could  bury  their  enmity 
and  bitterness,  an  altar  over  which 
their  children  could  find  an  everlasting 
opposition  alike  to  infidelity  and  Jesuit- 
ism which  would  prevent  the  diss  'mi- 
nation  of  the  Word  of  God  ;  an  alter 
around  which  they  could  all  pledge 
"their  lives,  their  sacred  honor,  and 
their  fortunes"  to  sustain  the  Bible 
cause.    He  esteemed  it  a  peculiar  honor 


THE    •AJTP    FOLLOWER. 


2f> 


'to  b€  allowed  to  speak  in  bohalf  of  the 
Bible  Society  on  this  occasion.  H(>  had 
heard  it  said  that  the  world  was  grow- 
ing worse  ;  yet,  he  had  lived  in  it  and 
saw  it  growing  better.  The  world 
was,  he  thought,  a  great  deal  bettor 
than  it  was  a  hundred  years  ago,  and 
though  he  held  his  opinion  of  by-gone 
time  he  respected  this  Societ}',  not- 
withstanding it  had  numbered  its  fifty 
years. 

It  was  the  wish  of  his  heart,  he  said, 
that  the  patriots  and  statesman  of  this 
country  could  be  brought  to  regard  the 
Bible  in  its  true  relation  to  Man  ;  in  the 
social  and  physical  liberty  it  furnishes 
to  him.  One  of  the  articles  of  impeach- 
ment brought  by  infidels  against  the 
Bible  was,  that  it  no  where  inculcates 
ttrue  patriotism.  Why,  what  is  patriot- 
ism ?  Had  Greece  and  Rome  a  true 
idea  of  patriotism  when  they  built  up  a 
nation  on  the  ruins  of  another  ?  Cer- 
tainly not.  When  Man  is  a  true  patriot, 
he  seeks  to  elevate  the  standard  of 
public  morals,  and  who  performs  this 
work  more  effectually  than  the  one  who 
distributes  the  Holy  Bible?  Infidels 
may  be  found  teaching  their  children 
from  this  book,  and  if  asked  them  their 
reasons  for  so  doing,  they  will  answer 
rtiat  they  must  give  them  lessons  in 
▼irtue  and  morals,  and  nowhere  else  can 
tbey  be  found  than  here  ! 

The  speaker  then  referred  to  the  sub- 
lime discoveries  made  by  science,  and 
said,  though  it  had  performed  many  won- 
ders, it  liad  done  nothing  to  reach  the 
di|ease  of  the  soul  and  cure  it.  Philos- 
ophy, what  can  it  do?  In  Greece, 
where  philosophy  was  most  understood, 
it  produced  a  refinement  of  manners  with 
a  dissolution  of  morals  ;  it  only  shows 
that  the  Bible  alone  can  elevate  the- 
morals  of  mankind.  It  had  this  power 
once,  and  it  possesses  it  now.  Again, 
the  Bible  will  do  a  great  deal  tostrength- 
•n  and  enlarge  the  intellect.  What 
book  can  the  human  i;iind   be  brought 


into  contact  with,  from  whici  it  could 
obtain  such  inestimable  blessings  as  this 
one  ?  %f  a  man  would  be  a  historian, 
let  him  study  the  Bible.  If  it  strength- 
ens the  intellectual  and  physical  being 
of  a  man,  it  follows  that  it  must  ever 
remain  the  bulwark  of  our  lil>erty. 

He  then  made  a  passing  allusion  to 
the  attempt  to  exclude  the  Bible  from 
the  public  schools  of  Baltimore,  and.  re- 
ferred to  the  part  he  took  in  preventing 
the  design  from  being  carried  into  exe- 
cution, and  said  that  just  in  proportion 
as  the  Word  of  God  was  circulated  and 
preached  among  the  people  of  any  city, 
that  city  would  flourish.  He  then  spoke 
of  the  inspiration  of  the  Bible,  and  re- 
ferred to  the  influence  of  familiarity  in 
blunting  our  sensibilities.  Such  was  its 
effect,  said  he,  that  the  fireworks  of  the 
schoolboy  attract  more  attention  than 
the  noonday  sun.  He  applied  this  to\ 
the  Bible,  which,  though  a  direct  com- 
munication from  God.  was  seldom  thought 
of  in  this  connection.  Some  person* 
found  it  difficult  to  look  at  it  in  this 
light,  but,  for  himself,  it  had  often  been 
a  matter  of  surprise  that  Ho  had  not 
sent  more  communications. 

We  sometimes  hear  it  said  that  the 
Bible  is  the  poor  man's  book,  and'.what 
joy  and  consolation  does  it  not  bring  to 
their  hearts?  He  had  often  found  a 
poor  man  living  in  an  humble  abode 
with  more  spiritual  knowledge  than  he 
himself  possessed.  He  thought  the 
rich  were  too  busy  with  their  business 
letters  to  think  of  reading  the  Lettere 
of  St  Paul,  and  they  were  too  much 
engrossed  in  considering  their  bad  debtg 
to  think  of  their  bad  deeds.  The  speaker 
closed  with  an  earnest  appeal  in  behalf 
of  the  Society. 


Clouds  are  the  veil  behind  which  the 
face  of  day  coquettishly  hides  itself,  to 
enhance  its  beauty. 

Downy  sleep,  death's  counterfeit. 


30 


THE     CAMP     FOLLOWER. 


The  Search  for  Happiness. 

The  following  was  one  of  ^e  Com- 
positions read  on  the  occasion  of  tho 
recent  examination  of  the  High  School 
of  the  Second  District.  It  is  from  the 
pen  of  the  youngest  young  lady  of  her 
class,  Miss  Louisa  Skinner,  aged  less 
than  eleven  years.  We  think  our  read- 
ers will  admit  that  it  evinces  the  pos- 
session of  a  good  sliare  of  the  imagina- 
tive facility  of  expression : 

A  maiden  tripped  lightly  along  the 
flowery  path  of  the  fairy  forest,  and 
found  herself  on  the  brink  ol  a  crystal 
fountain.  Lingering  there,  she  saw 
bending  toward  her  a  delicate  white 
lily,  the  fairy  Queen  of  the  fountain,  and 
she  bowed  her  head  in  reverence.  Then 
raising  it,  she  dashed  back  her  raven 
locks,  and  was  about  to  lay  an  humble 
petition  before  the  Queen.  The  fairy 
checked  her,  saying  : 

'Maiden,  I  know  your  thoughts,  and 
anticipate  what  you  would  ask  ;'  and 
she  held  up  before  the  maiden  two  rich- 
ly jeweled  caskets ;  one  bearing,  in 
diair.x.d  letters,  the  woi'd  'Riches,'  the 
other,  traced  in  rubies  and  emeralds, 
'Beauty.' 

'Give  me,'  exclaimed  the  maiden,  'give 
me  Riches.  They  must  surely  secure 
me  happiness.' 

'Thou  hast  thy  wish  !'  said  the  fairy 
of  the  forest,  and  handed  ker  the  dia- 
mond lettered  casket. 

But  soon  the  maitJen  discovered  she 
had  not  found  the  boon  her  heart  de- 
sired. 'Oh  !'  thought  she,  'had  I  but 
chosen  Beauty — that  would  have  brought 
me  the  happiness  which  Riches  never 
can  1' 

Again  she  sought  the  Crystal  Foun- 
tain in  the  forest,  and  once  more  found 
herself  in  the  presence  of  the  Fairy 
Queen,  attended  by  her  train.  Her 
throne  was  in  the  form  of  a  violet,  and 
carved  out  of  the  purest  sapphire  ever 
seen.  Throwing  herself  at  its  foot,  the 
maiden  said : 


'Fairest  of  the  fair !  Once  more  listen 
to  the  humble  suppliant,  and  give  her, 
oh  !  give  her  Beauty  !  Thou  hast  given 
me  Riches,  but  they  could  not  satisfy 
the  longings  of  my  soul  I'. 

'Enough,   maiden !      Thou   hast  thy 
wish  ;  yet  remember  that  bi;t  once  more 
wilt   thou   be   permitted  even  to   visits 
this  place.     But  once  more,  remember.' 

So  sajdng,  the  Queen  and  all  her  train 
departed,  leaving  with  the  maiden  the 
ruby  and  emerald  casket  of  beauty. 
xVnd  again  she  thought  she  had  secured 
the  precious  boon  she  sought.  Alas  ! 
how  was  she  deceived.  There  was 
something  wanting  yet. 

Again  she  sought  the  flowery  margin 
of  the  fountain,  and  once  more  and  for 
the  last  time  invoked  the  aid  of  the  fairy 
monarch. 

'Thou,  oh  Queen,'  said  she,  'hast  been 
kind,  and  hast  granted  me  all  I  have 
wished,  and  for  this  I  thank  thee.  Grati- 
fy me  in  but  one  wish  more  and  I  will 
be  content.' 

'What  do   you   seek,   fair   maiden? 
asked  the  Queen.   • 

'Happiness  !  Pure,  unalloyed  and 
las^ng  happiness  !'  responded  she. 

'It  is  not  in  my  power  to  give  thee 
what  thou  askest,  poor  child  !'  gently 
Aaid  the  fairy.  'But  I  can  point  out  to 
thee  the  road  which  leads  to  what  thou 
seekest.  It  is  by  treading  in  the  path 
of  Virtue,  that  thou  canst  not  fail  to 
find  Happiness,  whether  thy  dwelluig 
place  be  in  princply  halls,  or  in  a  lowly 
cottage.' 

'■      ■  9 

An  exchange  tells  of  a  man  in  Chero- 
kee county,  who  buried  his  wife  on 
Saturday,  and  at  the  grave  yard  en- 
gaged to  marry  another  woman  on  Mon- 
day. In  this  he  was  thwarted  by  the 
interference  of  friends,  and  did  not  get 
to  marry  her  until  Tuesday,  the  third 
day  after  the  burial  of  his  first  wife.  This 
is,  we  believe,  the  fastest  time  on  re- 
cord. 


THE    CAMP    FOLLOWER. 


Good  Humor. 

Keep  in  good  liumor.  It  is  not  great 
calamities  that  embitter  existence  ;  it 
is  the  petty  vexationS;  small  jealousies, 
the  little  disappointments,  the  minor 
miseries,  that  makes  the  heart  heavy 
and  the  temper  sour.  Don't  let  them. 
Anger  is  a-  pure  waste  of  vitality  ;  it  is 
always  foolish  and'always  disgraceful, 
except  in  some  very  rare  cases,  when 
•it  is  kindled  by  seeing  wrong  done  to 
another  ;  and  even  that  noble  rage  sel- 
dom mends  the  matter.  ivQcp  in  good 
humor. 

Xo  man  does  his  best  except  when 
he  is  cheerful.  A  light  heart  makes 
nimble  hands,  and  keeps  the  mind  fair 
and  alert.  No  misfortune  is  so  great  as 
one  that  sours  the  temper.  Until  cheer- 
iulness  is  lost,  nothing  is  lost  !  Keep 
in  good  humor  !' 

The  company  of  a  good  humored  man 
is  a  perpetual  feast ;  he  is  welcomed 
everjrwhere — eyes  glisten  at  his  ap- 
proach, and  difficulties  vanish  in  his 
presencje.  Franklin's  ii;  lomitable  good 
humor  did  as  much  for  liis  country  in 
the  old  Congress  as  Adams'  fire,  or  Jef- 
ferson's wisdom ;  he  clothed  wisdom 
with  smiles,  and  softened  contentious 
minds  into  acquiescence.  Keep  in  good  ' 
humor  ! 

A  good  conscience,  a  sound  stomach, 
a  clear  skin  are  the  elements  of  good 
humor  1  Get  them,  and  keep  them,  and 
— be  sure  to  keep  in  good  humor  ! 

Tw^o  in  Heaven. 

^''ou  have  two  children,'  said  I. 

Thave  four,'  was  the  reply  ;  'two  on 
earth,  two  in  Heaven.' 

There  spoke  the  mother  I  Still  hers, 
only  gone  before  I  Still  remembered, 
loved  and  cherished,  by  the  hearth  and 
at  the  board  ;  their  places  not  jet  filled, 
pven  though  theii-  successors  draw  life 
from  the  same  breast  where  their  dying 
heads  were  pillowed. 

'Two  in  Heaven  I' 


Safely  housed  from  storm  and  tem- 
pest. No  sickness  there,  nor  drooping 
head,  nor  fading  eye  nor  weary  feet. 
By  green  pastures,  tended  by  the  Good 
Shepherd,  linger  the  little  lambs  of  the 
Heavenly  fold. 

'Two  in  Heaven  '.' 

Earth  less  attractive.  Eternity  near- 
er. Invisible  coids  drawing  the  mate- 
lial  soul  upwards.  'Still  small  voices' 
ever  whisper  'Come  !'  to  the  world-weary 
spirit. 

'Two  in  Heaven  I' 

'Mother  of  angels  !^  Walk  softly.— 
Holy  eyes  watch  thy  footsteps  !  Cherub 
forms  bend  to  listen.  Keep  thy  spirit 
free  from  earth-taint ;  so  shalt  thou  go  to 
them,  though  they  may  not  return  to  thee. 

'Fellow-traveler,  will  you  help  me  out  oi 
this  mud-hole?'  asked  a  traveling  druggist, 
who  Lad  just  been  compelled  to  stop  his  toaia 
in  a  mud  hole,  because  his  horses  could  not 
pull  it  out. 

'No,  I  cau't  stop,',  said  the  ranbee,  who 
was  heavily  loaded,  and  feared  be  would  be 
too  late  for  the  cars.  ■' 

'I  would  take  it  as  a  great  favor,  besides 
paying  you,'  said  the  druggist. 

'What  are  you  loaded  with  V  asked  the 
Yankee. 

'Drugs  and  medicines,'  said  he. 
•   '1  gHess  I'll  try  to  get  you  out,  then,  for  1 
am  loadel  with  tombstones.' 

They  were  seen  travelino  together  after 
that. 


'Say,  Sambo,  where  does  de  Yankee?  puffer 
most?' 

'Why,  in  a'e  feet  (defeat)  to  be  sure.  What 
you  ask  such  silly  questions  for,  Jake?' 

'Molly,'  said  Joe  Kelly's  ghost  to  his  wife, 
'I'm  m  purgatory  at  present,' 

'What  sort  of  a  place  is  it  ?' 

'Faix,  it  is  a  sort  of  half-way  house  between 
you  and  heaven,  and  1  stand  it  very  aisy  after 
leaving  you.' 


A  weak  mind  is  ambitious  of  envy ;  a  strong 
one  of  respect 


32 


IKB    9X1ICP    F02i£<0W®B. 


THE  CHAMPION. 

HISTOBY. 


The  clang  of  arms  and  the  iaspiinting  sounds 
of  martial  music  resoaoded  tbroagU  the  •oart- 
yard  of  the  palace  o{  f^avarre.  ITie  chivalry 
of  Arragon,  Oistih,  and  Navarre  had  assem- 
bled at  the  snmmons  of  their  sovereign,  to 
fight  ander  his  banner  againat  the  infidels,  and 
now  waited  impatiently  for  the  moment  when 
the  monarch  shoald  mount  his  gallant  stee  i, 
and  lead  them  to  battle  and  to  victory. 

Sancho  the  Fourth  was  at  that  moment 
bidding  farewell  to  his  queen,  the  gentle  Dona 
Nuna,  who  clung  to  her  lord  in  an  agony  of 
tears. 

•Be  comlorted,  my  beloved,'  ke  said  to  her ; 
'I  shall  return  to  y>ia  with  add- J  laurels  to 
my  kingly  wreath.  Do  not  fea  •  for  me.  nor 
let  your  sweet  face  grow  pale  I  y  brooding 
over  the  dangers  and  chances  ol  war.  For 
my  part,  I  never  (elt  more  exalting  anticipa- 
tions ot  sucees.",  and  am  persuaded  that  triumph 
and  victory  will  crown  our  undertaking.' 

'Alas  !  it  is  not  so  with  me,'  said  Nuna, 
sadly.  'A  presentiment  of  approaching  evil 
weighs  heavily  on  my  heart.' 

'You  shudder  at.  the  thought  of  our  separa- 
tion, Nuna,  more  like  a  timid  young  bride 
parting  from  her  newly- wedded  lord,  ti'an  a 
matron  who  biis  stiared  her  husband's  joys 
and  sorrows  for  well  nigh  twenty  years-' 

'You  are  now  far  diarer  to  me,  Sancho, 
than  when  I  gave  you  my  hand  :  have  I  not 
to  thank  you  for  the  love  and  tendernes'^ 
which  has  made  these  long  years  of  weddtd 
life  so  blissful  and  happy  ?' 

*Ia  Boolh,  I  believe,  Nana,  it  is  even  so  ; 
and  jou  love  me  as  warmly  as  ever-  Receive 
my  assurances  in  return,  dear  wife,  that  your 
I'aoe  is  as  fair  to  me  and  the  gift  of  vour  true 
heart  as  fon  ly  prized,  as  when  I  first  1'  d  yon 
ti  tht'se  balls,  my  youthful  and  bfautifui  bride. 
But  siifier  me  to  bid  you  far  well,  or  my  robles 
will  wax  impatient.  1  leavrf  vou  to  the  so 
ciety  ot  our  son,  and  the  guardinnsbip  of  m\ 
trusty  Pedro  Seae,  who  will  attend  to  youi 
behests.  One  word  more.  I  iiinrust  to  yom 
safe  keeping  ray  beautiful  ete-d,  Ilderim.  You 
know  how  I  v.ilue  the  nob'e  animal,  my  fir^i 
capture  from  the  Moor.  See  that  he  is  care 
fully  tended  m  rny  absence,  I  shall  accept 
it  as  a  proof  of  your  regard  for  my  wishes^. 
JLnd  now,  adieu,  dearest  wife.     Think  of  me. 


and  supplicate  Heaven  that  I  may  bespeedWy 
and  seifely  restored  to  your  arms.' 

So  saying,  Sancho  the  Great,  tenderly  ejn- 
braced  hie  wife ;  and  mounting  his  war  charger, 
placed  himself  at  the  head  of  his  gallant  anny.^ 
The  clatter  of  horses'  hoofis  soon  died  away  io 
the  distance,  leaving  th«  eourt-yar.l  of  the 
castle  in  silence  and  gloom. 

Three  days  after  Qie  king's  departure^  the 
young  Don  Garcia  Entered  the  court-yard  o^ 
the  palace  at  Navane. 

'Pedro  Sese,  Pedro  Sese!'  Jie  cried, ''my 
noble  Arab  El  Toro  lies  dead  in  a  cleft  of  the 
rocks  ;  I  hnv?  returned  to  seek  another  steed 
for  the  "h  JK  ■ ;  such  a  boar  hunt  has  not  beea 
among  the  i.nriits  of  Navarre  .since  the  Fy- 
rennees  echoed  lo  the  horn  of  Roland  :  give 
me  forth  black  Ilderim.  Pedro  rny  friend ; 
saddle  me  my  father's  charger,  for  there  is  no 
other  steed  in  the  king's  stables  worthy  of  the 
hunt  to-day  1' 

'Don  Garcia,'  replied  the  master  of  the 
horse,  'black  Ilderim  is  only  for  the  king's 
mounting.  I  djre  oot  saddle  him  for  any 
other.' 

'But  the  Infante  commands  it — the  kb 
that  is  to  be.' 

'Chafe  iiui,  w.th  a  faithful  servant,,  Don 
Garcia:  it  '•-  bat  yesterday  I  refused  the 
same  reque-i  ( f  the  bastard  of  Arragon.' 

•"iVbat!  darest  thou  compare  me  with  tbft 
base-born  Ramiro?*  Insolent!  I  shall  beer 
my  complaint  to  the  queeii.' 

To  the  queen  Don  Garcia  fbore  his  com- 
plaint and  his  petition:  'Oh,  my  mother, 
would*'  thou  see  me  di  honored  by  a  menial? 
Am  I  not  thine  only  son,  the  rightful  heir  of 
Arragor?,  Oastile  and  Navarre  ?  who  may 
command  here,  if  I  may  fiot  ?  Assert  my  ao- 
thority,  then,  and  order  the  false  Pedro  Sese 
that  he  give  me  forth  black  Ilderim.' 

'Ptdr  )  Be  e  hath  faithfully  discharged  hi« 
duty  to  my  lord,  the  king,  who  enjoined  on 
him  and  on  me  the  safe  keeping  of  his  favorite 
horse,'  taid  Dona  Nuna.  'The  royal  ■kbies 
are  open  ;  take,  my  son,  any  other  steed,  bat 
leave  black  Ilderim  till  thy  father's  return.* 

'Nay,  by  Heaven  and  by  the  saints,  I  will 
have  Ildetim  to  ride  this  day,  OP I  will  hare 
vengeance  I'  * 

Ttie  headstrong  youth  returned  to  the  court, 
yard,  and  again  demanded  the  steed ;  agarn 
the  maater  ot  the  horee  refused.    Don  Garcia- 

Ipale  with  concentrated  rage,  sprang  on  another 
of  the  king's  chargers,  and  galloped  Irom  the 
palace.    Ina.eftd,  however,  of  returning  to  th« 


THE     CAMP    F«M.©WBR. 


33 


hunt,  he  urged  his  horse  into  the  despooiado, 
or  open  plaia,  lying  to  the  south  of  the  castle, 
and  disappeared  on  the  road  to  Burgos. 

Time  passed  heavily,  in  her  lord's  absence, 
with  the  gentle  Nuna.  At  first,  she  received 
frequent  and  joyful  tidings  of  the  successes 
which  crowned  hia  arms,  and  the  brilliant 
victories  gained  by  his  forces  over  the  Moslem 
army.  Of  late,  and  since  the  departure  of 
Garcia  from  the  castle,  Sancho's  affectionate 
dispatches  had  altogether  ceased  ;  and  Nnna, 
now  thoroughly  wretched,  from  the  wayward 
perversity  of  her  son,  and  from  uncertainty  as 
to  her  husband's  fate,  had  prepared  to  rejoin 
him  at  any  risk,  and  share  the  perils  to  which 
he  might  be  exposed. 

Her  resolution  was  no  sooner  formed  than 
it  was  promptly  carried  into  effect ;  she  sum- 
moned to  her  aid  the  trusty  Pedro  Sesc  ;  and, 
protected  by  a  small  escort  under  his  com- 
mand, bade  adieu  to  Xavarre,  and  commenced 
her  long  and  perilous  jourfaey  toward  the 
theatre  of  war. 

The  little  cavalcade  had  reached  Najarre, 
when,  to  .their  surprise  and  joy,  they  beheld  a 
gallant  band  of  horsemen  rapidly  approaching; 
the  united  banner  of  Arragon,  Castile,  and 
Navarre,  floating  proudly  before  them,  an- 
nounced to  all  beholders  that  Sancho  the 
Fourth  led  his  knights  in  person. 

Nona's  heart  beat  fast  and  tumultuonsly  ; 
in  a  few  moments,  and  the  long  absent  one 
would  clasp  her  closely  to  his  breast.  She 
looked  up  to  the  master  of  the  horse  who  rode 
by  her  side,  an.d  urged  him  to  increased  speed. 
They  moved  briskly  forward ,  and  the  ad- 
vanceing  knights  who  formed  the  king's  body- 
guard became  more  distinctly  visible.  "  Saucho, 
as  we  have  said,  headed  them ;  but  as  soon  as 
they  had  arrived  within  a  short  distance  of 
the  queen's  followers,  the  monarch  advanced  a 
few  paces,  and  in  tones  of  thunder  called  on 
them  to  halt.  His  brow  was  darkened  with 
evil  passions,  his  countenance  flushed  with 
anger. 

'On  the  peril  of  your  allegiance !'  he  shouted, 
rather  than  spoke,  'seize  th&  traitress,  I  com- 
mand ye !  My  heart  refused  to  hearken  to 
the  tale  of  ,her  guilt,  even  when  spoken  byv 
the  lips  of  her  son  ;  but  mine  eyes  have  spon 
it.  I  have  lived-r- wretched  as  I  am — to  wit- 
ness her  infamy.  But  the  adulteress,  and  ihe 
companion  of  her  crime,  shall  not  eseape  my 
righteous  vengeance.  See  to  it,  that  the  queen 
and  Pedro  LJese  remain  your  prisoners.' 

If  a  thunderbolt  had  fallen  at  the  feet  of  the 


miserable  Nuna,  she  could  not  have  been  more 
horror-strack,  or  more  confounded.  Her  life- 
long dream  of  happiness  was  dissipated  ;  the 
htisband  of  her  youth  had  recoiled  from  her  as 
from  the  veriest  reptile  that  crawls  on  the  face 
of  God's  earth ;  and  the  worker  of  her  woe 
and  ruin  was  her  own  child — her  own  flesh 
and  blood — her  son  Garcia!  Who  would 
believe  her  to  be  pure  and  innocent  when  such 
lips  pronounced  the  tale  of  her  guilt  ?  Un- 
happy wife  ;  still  more  unhappy  mother !  In 
the  deepest  dungeon  of  the  castle  of  Najarre 
she  was  left  to  mourn  over  her  uaparalleled 
misery.  Alone,  unfriended,  and  solitary,  Nu- 
na— who  so  lately  had  seen  herself  a  beloved 
and  cherishetl  wife,  a  fond  mother,  and  a  mighty 
sovereign — straggled  with  her  bitter  and 
mouruM  reCcctions.  She  could  not  reproach 
her  husband,  for  she  felt  that  his  ear  had  been 
poisoned  against  her  by  an  accuser  he  could 
scarcely  mistrust,  even  by  the  insinuations  of 
her  son,  confirmed — as  be  deemed  them  to  be 
— by  the  evidence  of  his  .senses,  when  he  met 
her  so  unexpectedly  traveling  under  the  escort 
of  Pedro  Sese. 

But  short  space  waa  left  to  Nuna  for  these 
agonizing  thoughts.  Death,  a  shameful  death, 
was  the  punishment  of  the  adulteress  ;  but 
Sancho,  more  merciful  than  she  had  dared  to 
hope,  had  granted  her  one  loop-hole  for  escape 
— one  slender  chance  of  proving  her  innocence. 
The  lists  were  to  be  open  to  any  champion  be- 
lieving in  the  lady's  guiltlessness,  who  should 
adventure  his  life  in  her  defense.  If  any  such 
should  proffer  his  services,  be  might  do  battle 
in  single  combat  with  her  accuser.  God — -ac- 
cording to  the  belief  of  those  days — would 
give  victorv  to  hira  who  maintained  the 
truth  1         '         ■     •• 

The  fatal  day  approached,  arrived,  and  had 
well  nigh  passed.  Gracit,  unopposd,  bestrode 
his  war-steed,  the  redoutable  black  Ilderim, 
whose  possession  he  had  so  eagerly  coveted, 
an4  purchased  at  so  fearful  a  price.  The  dis- 
crowied  queen,  in  conformity  with  custom,  was 
placed  within  sight  of  the  arena,  tiod  to  a 
stake,  surmounting  what  world  prove  h«r  fune- 
ral pile  if  no  champion  apptarcd  on  Jier  behalf, 
or  if  her  defender  should  suffer  defeat. 

Who  can  paint  the  agitation  of  Dona  Nuna, 
thus  plaaed  within  view  of  the  lig<^.  wlicn  the 
precious  hours  passed,  one  by  one,  and  no 
champion  sloorl  forth  in  defense  of  lier  purity 
and  truth  ?  She  was  about  to  ros!:;ri  herself 
hopelessly  to  her  inexorable  uA?,  whan  the 
sound  of  a  horse's  tramp  was  heard,  approaali- 


34 


THE    ©AMiP    r««.'LO^nWBE. 


ing  at  a  rapid  pace  ;  and  a  knigbt,  in  eomptete 
armor,  moirated  on  a  cfaarger,  whose  foamrog 
moath  and  reeking  sidra  told  that  be  had  been 
ridden  at  a  fearful  pace,  dashed  into  the  lists, 
flung  down  bis  ganntlet  of  defiance,  and  an- 
nounced that  bci  was  cc«ne  to  do  battle  in 
behalf  cf  the  falsely-accused,  bnt  stainless  and 
guiltless  queen. 

Thafe  was  an  involuntary  movement  among 
the  assembled  multitude  when  Garcia  prepared 
for  the  inevitable  encounter.  None  knew,  or 
could  gucs-s,  who  the  knight  might  be.  No 
device  nor  emblem,  by  which  his  identity 
would  be  discovered,  could  be  traced  on  his 
helmet  or  on  his  shield ;  but  the  ease  with 
which  he  Purmocnled  his  eteed,  and  -us  grace- 
ful arid  gallant  bearing,  evicCQd  that  he  was 
an  accomplished  warrior. 

In  a  few  £C coeds,  the  preliminary  airauge^ 
ments  were  complete  ;  and,  with  lances  in  rest, 
the  oppontnls  approached.  In  the  first  en- 
counter, to  the  amazement  of  all,  Garcia  was 
unhorsed,  and  fe!!  heavily  to  the  ground. 

'She  is  innocent  ?  She  is  innocent !'  shouted 
the  mnltiludc. 

'God  be  praii-ed  !  though  I  have  lost  a  eon/ 
was  the  subdued  ejticu'ation  of  the  king. 

'I  am  prepared,  in  deleuse  of  the  much-in- 
jured lady,  tc  do  eombtit  to  the  death,'  said 
the  etranger  knight.  'Bate  and  dastardly 
villain  !  confes;!  thy  unnatural  crime,  or  pre- 
pare to  meet  me  once  more,  when  I  swear  I 
will  not  let  thee  escape  eo  lightly.' 

Garcia  Levitated  ;  he  was  evidently  torn  by 
couliicting  emotions.  Oonscious  gaiJt — fear 
ot  the  JQSt  retribution  of  Heaven,  executed  by 
the  stranger's  avengiug  sword — urged  him  to 
confess  his  villainy.  On  fhe  'other  hand,  ap- 
prehensions of  the  execrations  of  the  multitude, 
and  the  indignation  of  his  injured  parents,  re- 
strained bim  from  making  a  frank  avowal  of 
his  crime. 

'Remount,  miscreant !  and  make  ready  for 
another  encounter,  or  confess  that  you  have 
lied  in  your  throat,'  exclaimed  the  stranger, 
sternly. 

Before  Garcia  could  reply,  an  aged  and 
venerable  ecclesiastic  threw  himself  between 
the.  (i,  j;ntu  u.'i?. 

'lu  the  name  of  Heaven  !  1  command  ye  to 
iritbhnld  fiom  this  unnatural  plrife>'  he  ex- 
claimed, addressing  them;  brothers  areyo; 
the  bloid  ol  a  common  lather  flows  in  your 
veins.  Ramiro,  forbear.  Qarcia,  the  combat 
this  day  lias  testified  to  your  guilt ;  make  the 


only  at<Mieaattent  in  your  power,  by  a  full  coe- 
fessioD.' 

BjaculatioD3  of  astonishment  and  ]Mty  burst 
from  all  the  spectators.  'Long  live  the  noble 
bastard !  The  base-bom  has  made  base  the 
well-bom !  The  step-son  has  proved  the  true 
son  !  Praise  be  to  the  virgin,  the  motha*  of 
the  people  hsis  not  been  left  without  a  godson 
to  fight  for  her !'  And  all  the  matrons,  and 
many  even  of  the  hardened  warriors  among  the 
multitude,  wept  with  tenderness  and  joy. 

In  a  few  moments  the  agitated  queen  fouod 
herself  in  her  husband's  arms.  He  implored 
her  forgiveness  for  the  porrow  ehe  had  endured; 
nor  could  she  withhold  it,  even  for  a  moment 
when  she  listened  to  the  avowals  of  the  de- 
graded Garcia,  who  confessed  how,  step  by 
step,  he  had  poisoned  his  father's  mind  by 
tales  pf  her  infidelity,  in  revenge  for  her  re- 
fusal, and  that  of  Pedro  Sese,  to  intrust  him 
with  Sancho's  favorite  charger,  black  Ilderim. 

Nnnu  turned  from  her  abject  son,  »ind  mo- 
tioned her  young  ehampron  to  approach.  He 
knelt. at  her  feet. 

'Ramiro,'  she  softly  .said,  as  she  unclasped 
the  helmet  and  visor  which  concealed  the 
handsome  features  ol  S.^ncho'.s  illegiiimale 
son,  'cliild  of  my  afiections,  for  whom  I  have 
ever  felt  a  mother's  love,  though  I  have  not 
borne  for  thee  a  mother's  paine  ;  how  shall  I 
thank  thee?  Thou  hast  this  day  more  1  ban 
repaid  the  tenderness  I  lavished  on  thy  infant 
years.  Thou  hast  made  clear  my  fair  fame 
♦0  all  men  ;  even  at  the  risk  ol  thy  own  young 
life.' 

'I  would  lay  down  life  itself  for  such  a  friend 
as  you  have  been,  a  ,d  esteem  the  sacrifice 
light,'  rejoined  Ramiro,  with  deep  emotion.  'I 
remember  my  childish  days — before  you  came 
tc  Navarre,  a  bright,  happj',  innocent  bride — 
'■hen  I  wandered  Ibi-ough  ray  father's  palace 
an  unloved  and  neglected  boy  ;  and  I  can  re- 
call vividly  the  moment  when  you  first  en- 
countered me,  and.  struck  by  the  resemblance 
I  bore  to  the  king.  Furmise'd  the  truth.  In- 
stead of  hating  me  wi  h  the  unjust  aversion  of 
an  ungenerous  nature,  you  took  the  despised 
child  to  your  heart,  and,  for  the  love  you  bore 
your  lord,  you  loved  and  clierisbed  his  base- 
l)orn  eon.  For  the  genial  atnv  sphere  you 
created  around  me,  and- in  which  my  afiectionfl 
expanded,  and  for  the  care  you  have  bestowe^ 
on  my  education,  J  owe  you  i  debt  of  grati- 
tude far  deeper  than  ever  child  bore  bis  own 
mother.  Nature  dictates  maternal  love,  m 
the  one  instance — but  it  is  lo  tlie  suggestiouB 


TIM;     «AM?    T>OLLOWBR. 


35 


of  a  noble  and  generoas  heart  that  I  have  been 
indebted  for  the  happiness  of  my  life.  Ton 
owe  me  no  thanks — for,  for  such  a  friend  no 
sacrifice  can  be  too  great.' 

Nuna  tamed  to  the  king,  and.  taking  his 
hand  in  hers,  l>laccd  it  on  the  head  of  her 
young  champion.  'I  have  brought  you  king- 
doms as  ny  dower,'  she  said,  -bat  I  have  not, 
alas  !  brought  jou  a  sou  so  worthy  as  Ramiro 
of  bcLug  their  ruler.  I  freely  forgive  the  In- 
fante the  suffering  he  has  caused  mc,  and  hope 
that,  with  advancing  years,  he  will  cultivate 
the  virtues  in  which  he  has  shown  himself  to 
be  deficient.  I'ut  Ramiro  has  already  given 
evidence  of  the  possession  of  those  exalted 
qualities  which  insure  the  happiness  cf  a  peo- 
ple when  possessed  by  their  rulers.  Invest 
him  then,  at  my  entreaty,  with  tlie  crown  ol 
Arragon  ;  receive  back  to  your  confidence  our 
faithful  Pedro  Sf.se  ;  ajul  snffer  uie  to  forget 
my  past  griefs  in  the  anUcipation  of  a  love 
which  shall  never  again  bein*errufited.' 

The  king  raided  his  hand  in  assent :  and  t':e 
assembled  multitude  conSrmed  the  investiture 
with  one  mighty  shout — 'Ramiro  !  Bainiro  ! 
long  live  Ramiro  !  Infactc  of  Arragon  !' 

To  the  Stars  and  Stripes. 


The   Strano^er's;  Grave. 


No -longer  bright  banner  as  erst  it  was, 
Innured  in  blood,  dishonored  with  shame. 

The  type  of  a  people  of  honor  devoid — 
Unworthily  a  nation — uniKrlhy  a  name, 

.7.  E.  !■'. 

PaBGe.  Pleasure  and  liove. 


BY    ABKV    M.    UEMANWAV. 


0,  fanie  is  bright  and  l'1  rious, 

It  dazzles  mortal  eyes  ; 
And  eager  thousands  seek  to  win 

The  high  and  glittering  prize. 

And  pleasure  wears  a  magic  wreath 

So  gaily  trips  along, 
That  many  follow  in  hrr  train, 

Lured  by  her  witcliug  i.ojg. 

But  love  beneath  the  rose  tree  sits, 
And  sings  eo  soft  and  sweet, 

That  far  more  charmed,  her  votaries 
Their  offerings  at  her  feet. 


lay 


Alone  I  alone  I  the  stranger  sleeps, 

In  solitude  and  gloom ; 
Xo  friendly  eye  above  bim  weeps — 

No  flowers  o'er  him  bloom  ! 

He  died  from  home,  in  foreign  landa^ — 

Across  the  bounding  wave  ; 
His  eyes  were  closed  by  stranger's  hands.. 

>Aj}d  strangers  made' his  grave. 

Upon  a  lone  and  huncri  spot, 
'Iliey  raised  hi-;  .=;Iui;l.'  mouod  ; 

By  somb  bemoancol,  "by  a!l  forgot, 
&.  dreary  grave  he  found  I 

Aboy?j  his  graVe,  no  evergreen 
Its  fnithful  Jeaires  eatwrne  ; 

No  !oV;iig  vine  ciih  Ihere  be  .vcen. 
To  shade  afl^nt ion's  shrin'. . 

When  all  is  f^uVi  al  close  of  day, 

And  stars  peep,  out  above, 
No  mourniDg  friend  goes  there  to  i-iaj-. 

Or  drop  a  tear  of  love'! 

One  lonely  pine,  above  ihe  sppt 
Keeps  loud  .and  )iollo\v  moan  ! 

The  winds  bew.all  his  friendless  lot, 
And  whispc-r— ail _ alone  I 

Oh  !  when  I  bid  a  last  farewell 

'J'o  all  that's  bright  below, 
Oh  !  let  my  vision  proudly  dwc'i 

On  scenes  I  used  to  know. 

The  verdant  fickis—tho  meadows  bright- 
Toe  streams  I  nslii  to  roam — 

Oh !  let  the.«e  glad  my  failing  sight ! 
Oh !  let  me  die  at  "^hcme  I 

Let  friendly  hands  my  cyc'ids  sea4 

For  deaths  eternal  sleep  ; 
Lkt  loving  hearts  around  me  feel, 

And  friends  above  mc  weep ! 


A  man  may  have  a  thousand  acquaintances 
and  not  a  friend  among  them.  If  you  bare 
ot:e  true  fiicnd.  then  you  may  ihink  yoursel/^ 
happy. 


36 


TBE    «AB^    FOLLOWER. 


Sentiments    Beautiful  and  True. 


To  be  careful  is  the  way  to  guard  agaiastcare. 

The  pebbles' in  our  path  weary  us  and  make 
us  footsore  more  than  the  rocks,  which  only 
require  a  bold  effort  to  surmount. 

A  good  moral  character  is  the  first  essential 
quality  in  a  man.  It  is,  therefore,  highly  im- 
portant to  endeavor  not  only  t©  be  learned, 
but  to  be  virtuous. 

Those  who  are  the  most  faulty  are  the  most 
pioue  to  find  faults  in  others. 

The  great  sources  o*f  happiness  are  under- 
standing and  cheerfulness. 

If  we  did  not  corrupt  our  nature,  our  nature 
would  not  corrupt  us. 

There  is  more  hop'e  for  a  fool  than  of  him 
that  is  wi.?e  in  his  owh  conceits. 

The  best  way  to  condemn  bad  traits  is  by 
practising  good  ones. 

All  is  vanity '-that  is  not  honest,  and  there 
h  no  solid  wisdom  but  in  real  piety. 

The  man  who  hesitates  to  receive  a  favor, 
v.'jJi  ever  be  the  most  grateful. 

His  praise  is  lost  who  waits  till  all  com- 
mend. 

Love  sacrifices  all  thi'jgs  to  oless  the  thing 
it  loves. 

There  are  reproaches  which  praise,  and 
praises  which  slander. 

A  sentence  well  couched,  takes  both  the 

sense  and  the  understanding.       -        ' 

They  that  do  nothing  are  m  the  readiest 
way  to  do  that  which  is  worse  than  nothing. 

Chance  corrects  us  of  many  faults  thai  reason 
would  not  know  how  to  correct. 

Shakspeare  needed  not  the  spectacles  of 
books  to  read  nature;  he  looked  inward  and 
found  her  there. 

Common  opiiions  often  conflict  with  com- 
mon sense  ;  for  reason  in  most  minds  is  no 
match  for  prejudices,  a  hydra,  whose  heads 
grow  faster  than  they  can  be  cut  off. 


What  field  so  fertile  is  there  as  to  yield  as 
much  as  beneficence  ? 

The  greatest  difficulties  are  always  found 
where  we  are  not  looking  for  them. 

The  physically  blind  feel  their  infirmity  ; 
but  what  shall  we  say  of  the  morally  blind  ? 

Peace  is  the  evening  star  of  the  soul,  as 
virtue  i«  its  «ua,  and  the  two  are  never  far 
apart. 

Clouds  are  the  veil  behind  which  the  face 
of  day  coquettishly  hides  itself,  to  enhance  its 
beauty. 

Poetry  and  philosophy  revolve  around  the 
same  centre,  and  differ,  like  <.'omets  and  fixed 
stars,  only  in  the  orbit  they  describe. 

If  any  one  say  he  has  seen  a  just  man  in 
want  of  bread,  I  answer  that  it  was  in  some 
place  where  there  was  no  other  just  man. 

As  the  soil,  kowever  rich  it  may  be,  cannot 
be  productive  without  culture,  so  the  mind, 
without  cultivation,  can  never  produce  good 
fruit. 

As  it  is  in  himself  alone  that  man  can  find 
true  and  enduring  happiness,  so  in  himself 
alone  can  he  find  true  and  efficient  consolatfon 
in  misfortune. 

With  the  vulgar  and  the  learned,  name^ 
have  great  weight ;  the  wi?e  use  a  writ  of  in- 
quiry into  their  legitimacy  when  they  are 
advanced  by  authority. 

It  is  often  better  to  h  ive  a  great  deal  of 
harm  happen  to  one  :  a  great  deal  may  arouse 
you  to  remove  what  a  little  will  only  accus- 
tom you  to  endure. 

Orpheus,  according  to  the  poets,  melted 
tigers  by  his  chants :  the  God  of  Christrians, 
in  calling  men  to  the  true  religion,  has  done 
more,  since  he  has  softened  the  most  ferocious 
kind  of  animals — men  themselves. 

Content  is  to  the  mmd  like  moss  to  a  tree  ; 
it  bindeth  it  up  so  as  to  stop  its  growth. 

Among  arms,  said  the  Roma  n  author,  laws 
are  silent.  Among  arms,  we  may  add,  the 
temples  of  prayer  are  voiceless. 

Love  dies  by  satiety,  and  forgetfulness  inters  it. 


THE    CAMP    FOLLOWER. 


61 


DEACON   SItflTH'S  BULL. 

OR     MIKE    IN    A    TIGHT     PLACE 

BY   SCKIGGIKS. 

Mike  Fink  a  notorious  Buckeye  hunter 
was  cotemporary  witn  the  celebrated  Davy 
Crocket,  and  his  equtl  in  all  things  appertain- 
ing '  0  the  human  prowes?.  It  was  even  said 
'.hat  the  animals  in  his  neighborhood  knew  the 
crack  of  his  rifle,  and  would  take  to  the  first 
intimation  that  Mike  was  about.  Yet  strange 
though  true,  he  was  little  known  beyond  bis 
immediate  ''settlement." 

When  we  knew  him  he  was  an  old  man — the 
blasts  of  seventy  winters  had  silvered  over 
his  Iiead  and  taken  the  elasticity  from  hislirah?; 
yet  in  the  whole  of  his  lif?  wa.=  Mike  never 
wori5tecl,  except  on  one  occasion.  To  u?e  hia 
own  language,  he  never  "giu  in,  used  up,  to 
anything  that  travelded  on  iwo  leg?  or.  f^iur," 
but  once. 

"That  once,  we  want."  said  Bill  Siisher  as 
some  dozen  of  ns  sat  in  the  bar  room  of  the 
ouiy  tavern  in  the  "settlement." 

•'Gin  it  to  us  now,  Mike,  you've  promised 
long  enough,  and  yoa  are  old  now,  and  need'nt 
carev  contiruihi  Bill. 

'Right,  right!  Bill.'  said  Mike,  'out  we'll 
open  witli  licker  all  round  fi.gt,  Tt'li  kind  o' 
save  my  foelins,  I  reckon — " 

'Thar,  that's  good.  Better  than  t'other 
barrel,  if  anything!' 

'Well,  boys,'  continued  Mikt*,  'you  may  talk 
o'  Toar  scrimmages,  tight  places  and  sich  like 
and  subtract  all  together  in  one  almighty  big 
'iin,  and  they  haint  no  more  to  be  compared  to 
the  one  I  war  in,  than  a  dead  kitten  to  an  old 
she  bar  !  I've  fout  all  kind  o'  varmints,  from 
an  Ingin  down  to  a  rattlesnake !  and  never  was 
willin  to  quit  first,  but  this  once~«nd  'tivns 
with  a  Bull ! 

'You  see,  boys,  it  was  an  awlul  hot  day  in 
August,  and  I  war  nigh  runnin  oil'  into  pure 
iie  when  I  war  thiiikin  that  a  dip  in  the  crc*  k 
nioit  save  me.  Well,  thar  was  a  mighty  nice 
place  in  old  Deacon  Smith's  mcddcr  for  that 
partic'lar  bizzincss.  So  I  went  down  amongst 
the  bushes  to  unharness.  I  jist  hauM  the  old 
red  shirt  over  my  hea-l,  and  war  thinkin  how 
scromptious  a  teller  of  my  size  would  feel 
walk  1  in  round  in  that  ;ir  water,  and  was  jest 
boat  goin  in,  when  I  ^w d  the  Deacon's  bull  a 
makin  a  Bline  to  whfir  I  stood. 

'  f  kuowd  the  old  cuss,  for  he'd  skarcd  more 
people  tlmn  all  th?  parsons  o'  the  settlement. 


and  cum  mighty  near  killiu  a  few.  Thinks  I, 
Mike  you  are  in  rather  a  tight  place — get 
your  fixins  on,  for  he'll  be  a  drivin  them  big 
horns  of  his  in  ycr  bowels  afore  that  time ! 
Well,  you'll  hev  to  try  the  old  varmint  naked, 
I  reckon. 

'The  !:ull  war  on  one  side  o'  the  creek  and  I 
on  t'other,  and  the  way  he  made  the  sile  fly 
for  a  while,  as  if  he  war  diggin  ray  grave,  war 
distressin  ! 

'Come  OB,  ye  bellerin  old  heathen  said  I, 
and  don't  be  staudin  thar  ;  for,  a3  the  old 
Deacon  says  o'  the  devil,  'yer  not  comely  to 
look  on.' 

'This  kind  o  reach  his  undorstandiu  and 
made  him  more  wishious,  for  he  hoofed  a  little 
like  and  made  a  dive.  And  as  I  don't  like  to 
stand  in  any  body's  way,  I  sin  him  plenty 
searoom  !  So  he  kind  o'  passed  by  me  and 
came  out  on  t'other  side  ;  and,  as  the  Captain 
o'  the  Mud  Swamp  Rangers,  would  say,  bout 
face  for  another  charge.' 

'Though  I  war  ready  for  'im  this  time,  he 
come  mighty  nigh  runnin  foul  o'  me  !  So  I 
made  up  my  mind  ihe  next  time  he  went  out 
he  would'nt  be  alone.  So  when  he  passed,  I 
grappled  his  tail,  and  he  pulled  me  out  on  the 
"ile,  and  as  soon  as  we  was  both  a  top  of  the 
bank,  eld  brindle  stopped  and  war  about  corn- 
in  round  agin  when  I  began  pullin  t'other 
way. 

'Well,  I  reckon  this  kind  o'  riled  him,  for  he 
fust   stood  still  and   Iool-e>^  at  h;c  for  a  spell, 
and  then  commenced  pawin  and   bellerin,  and 
the  way  he  made  his  hind  gearin  play  in  tl 
air,  war  beautiful! 

'But  it  warn't  no  use,  he  couldn't  tech  nic, 
so  he  kind  o'  stopped  to  cet  wind  for  somethin 
devlish,  as  I  judged  by  the  way  he  started. 
By  this  time  1  had  made  up  my  mind  to  stick 
to  his  tail  as  long  ns  it  stuck  to  his  back-b.  it^ 
I  did'nt  like  to  holler  for  help,  nuther,  kn-.'  it 
war  ogin  my  prineipl«',  and  then  the  D.'acpn 
had  preachin  at  his  ho.ise,  and  it  wasn't  1/ 
oB  nuther. 

'I  knowcd  if  he  hern  tlie  noise  the  hull  am- 
gregalion  would  come  d'^wn  ;  and"  as  I  warn't 
a  marrid  ninn,  and  had  a  kind  o'  hankerin 
arter  a  gal  that  war«tliur,  I  did'n  feel  as  if  I 
would  like  to  be  seen  in  that  ar  predicamen*. 

'So,  .says  I,  you  old  sarpent,  d  ;  yor  cus-fi- 
est!  And  so  Le  did;  for  he  i  rug  me  nvi-' 
every  brier  aud  stump  in  the  field,  until  I  war 
sweatiu  and  b'eedin  like  a  fat  bar  wiih  a  pack 
o'  hounds  at  his  heels.  And  my  name  aint 
Mike  Fink,  if  the  old  critter'^  tail  and  I  did'nt 


THE    CAMP    FOLLOWER.   . 


blow  out  sometimes  ai  a  dead  level  with  the 
vasmint's  back. 

'So  yon  may  kalkelaLe  we  uride  good  dms. 
Bimeby  he  slackened  a  little  aad  then  I  had 
'im  for  a  spell,  for  I  jist  drapped  behind  ii 
stump  and  ttiav  snubbed  tlie  critter  !  Now, 
gays  I,  yon'Il  pull  up  this  "ere  white  oak—" 
break  yer  tail,  or  ,jest  bold  on  a  bit  till  I  blow. 

'Well,  while  t  war  scttin  thar,  an  idea 
etrnck  me  that  I  had  beftcr  bo  a  gottia  out  o' 
that  in  some  way.  But  Iww,  adzackly,  was 
the  pint.  If  I  let  go  and  run  he  d  be  a  ioul  o' 
me  sure. 

'So  lookin  at  the  matter  in  all  its  bearings, 
1  cum  to  the  conclusion  that  I'd  better  let 
somebody  know  whar  I  was.  So  I  gin  a  yell 
louder  than  a  locomotive  whistle,  aad  it  warn't 
long  afore  I  seed  the  Deacon's  two  dogs  a 
ccmh;  down  like  as  if  they  war  seein  which 
couiu  get  thar  fust. 

I  know'd  who  they  war  arter— they'd  jine 
the  bull  agin  me,  I  war  sertin,  for  they  war 
awful  wenomous  and  had  a  spite  agin  me. 

'So,  says  I,  old  brindle,  as  ridm  is  as  cheap 
as  walkin,  on  this  rout,  if  you've  no  objections, 
I'll  jist  take  a'deck  passage  on  that  ar  back 
o'  yourn.  So  I  was'nt  long  gettin  abtrid  of 
him.  and  then  if  you'd  "ave  sworn  thar  warn't 
nothin  human  in  that  ar  mix !  the  sile  flew 
so  orfully  as  the  critter  and  I  rolled  round  tlie 
field — one  dog  on  one  side  and  one  on  t'other, 
Iryin  to  clinch  my  feet. 

"■I  prayoxl  and  cussed,  pnd  cussed  and  prayed, 
until  I   ccald'nt  tell  which  I  did  last— and 


neither 
mixed  t; 
'Weli. 
v/ay,  wh: 
stop  to  t 


rnt  any  uae,  they  war  so   orfully 


reckon  I  rid  about  an   hour  in  this 
old  brindle  thought  it  war  time  to 
c  in  a  supply  o'  wind  and  cool  off  a 
..ttle.     So  when  he  got  round  to  a   tree  that 
stood  tla-.  he  uatrally  halted. 

•Now,  siiys  I,  old  boy,  you'il  lo3(:  one  pas- 
secger,  eavtuin.  So  I  jist  clam  upon  a  branch, 
kalkelatin  to  roost  thar  till  I  starved,  before 
I'd  be  rid  round  in  that  ar  way  any  longer. 

'I  war  a  makin  tracks  for  the  top  of  the 
tree,  when  I  heard  sumthin  makin  an  orful 
buzzin  over  head.  I  kinder  looked  up  and  if 
thar  war'nt— well  tear's  no  use  a  swarin  now, 
hnr  it  wai'  the  'oiggist  hornet's  nest  ever  built. 
You  a  in  in,  now,  I  reckon,  Mike,  case  thar's 
1)0  kelp  for  you.  Bat  an  idea  struck  me  then, 
that  I'd  stand  a  heap  better  chance  a  ridin  the 
old  bull  than  whar  I  war.  Says  I,  old  feller, 
if  joa'il  hold  on,  I'll  ride  to  the  next  station,  ' 
anv  'I'^w.  let  that  be  whar  it  will.    So  I  jist  J 


drapped  aboard  him  agin,  and  looked  alolt  to 
see  what  I'd  gained  in  ehangiu  quarters  ;  and 
gentlemen,  I'm  a  liar  if  thar  warn't  near  a 
half  a  bushel  of  the  stingin  varmints  ready  to 
pitch   upon  me  when  the  word  go  was  given. 

'"Well,  I  reckon  they  got  it,  for  all  hands 
started  for  our  company.  Some  on  em  hit 
the  dogs,  about  a  quart  struck  me,  and  the 
rest  charged  on  old  brindle.  This  time  the 
dogs  led  ofi' first,  dead  bent  for  the  old  Dea- 
con's, and  as  soon  as  old  brindle  and  I  could 
get  under  wiiy,  we  followed.  And  as  I  war 
only  only  a  deck  passenger,  I  had  nothin  to 
do  with  stecrin  the  craft,  I  swore  if  I  had  we 
should'nt  have  run  that  channel  no  how. 

'But,  as  I|said  afore,  the  dogs,  took  the 
lead — brindle  belerin  and  the  hornetts  buzzin 
aad  stingin!    I  didnt  say  nothin,  for  it  warn't 

no  US;' 

'"Well,  we'd  got  about  two  hndrc-d  yards 
fjom  the  hou,«e  .  the  Deacon  hern  us  and  come. 
1  seed  hira  hold  up  Jiis  hand  and  turn  white! 
I  r%on  he  was  prayin.  then,  for  he  didn't  ex- 
pect to  be  called  for  so  soon,  and  it  want  long 
neither,  afore  the  hull  congregation,  men, 
women  and  children,  cam  out,,  and  then  all 
hands  went  to  yellin. 

'Xone  of  em  had  the  fust  notion   that  brin- 
dle and  I  belonged  to  this  world.     I  turned 
ray  head  and  possed  the  hull  congregation.    I 
seed  the  run   would  be  up   soon-  for  brindle 
could'nt  turn  an  inch  from  a  fenc3  that  stood 
dead  ahead.     Well,  we  reached  that  fence, 
and  I  went  ashore  over  the  old  critter's  head, 
landing  on   t'other  side  and  lay  thar  stunned. 
It  warii't  long  afore  some  of  em  as  war  not  so 
scared  cum  round  to  see  wkat  I  war.     For  all 
hands  kaikelated  that  bull  and  I  belonged  to- 
gether.   But  when  brindle  walked  off  by  him- 
self they  seed  how  it  war,  and  one  of  em  :  aid,' 
^Mike  Fink  has  giit  the  %m:<tt  of  the  scrimmage 
once  ill  liis  life .'' ' 


'There  is  no  object  so  beautiful  to 
me  as  a  conscientious  young  man.  I 
watch  him  as  I  do  a  star  in  Heaven,' 
'That  is  my  view — exactly,'  sighed  Miss 
Josephine  Hoops,  as  she  laid  dow^n  the 
volume  ;  'in  fact,  I  think  there's  nothing 
so  beautiful  as  a  young  man  even  if 
he  ain't  conscientious.'  .   . 


'   One  day.  of  domestic  felicity  is  worth 
a  ve'ar  of  gaiety,  • 


THE    CAMP    POl-LOWER. 


3y 


A  Thrilling  Romance. 

CHAPTER  I. 

She   stood  beside  the  altax.  with   a 

wreath   of  orange  bads  upon  her  head 

— upon   her  back  the   richest  kind   of 

duds — her  lover  stood  beside  her  with 

\ids   and  dickey  clean — the  last  was 

twenty-one    years   old,   the   fust    was 

seventeen . 

CHAPTER  11. 

8hc  stood  beside  the  wash-tub,  with 
her  red  hands  in  the  suds,  and  at  her 
slip-shod  feet  there  stood  a  pile  of  dirty 
duds  ;  her  husband  stood  beside  her, 
tfie  Grossest  man  alive  ;  the  last  was 
tv^enty-nine  years  old,  the  fust  was 
twenty-five. 

The  heavy  w«sh  was  over,  and 
the  clothes  hung  out  to  dry  ;  and  Tom 
had  stuck^is  finger  in  the  dirty  baby's 
eye.  Tom  had  been  spanked  and  sup- 
per made  upon  a  crust  of  brec^d,  and 
the  bride  and  bride-groom  went  srumb- 
ling  to  bed. 


Tsvo  Vievrs  of  Life. 

A  young  man  recently  committed 
suicide  at  Richmond,  Va.,  who,  before 
he  plunged  into  the  unknown,  wrote  for 
the  world,  tliat  life  was  a  farce,  happi- 
ness a  humbug,  and  the  cares  and  trials 
before  him  onl}^  a  prolongation  of  sor- 
row ;  and  so  he  rounded  the  farce  with 
a  tragedy,  and  surrendered  a  treasure 
he  had  not  the  resolution  to  keep.— ^ 
Another  man  once  lived  whose  trials 
and  cares  were  doubtless  greater  than 
any  this  young  man's  timid  fancy  ever 
suggested  ;  and  after  he  had  braved 
them  all  with  a  stout  heart  and  unfal- 
tering faith,  and  his  eye  looked  beyond 
the  curtain  which  parted  before  him, 
and  the  full  effulgence  from  the  Land 
of  the  Blessed  poured  upon  his  enrap- 
tured vision,  left  as  a  legacy  to  those 
who  should  come  after  him,  to  inspire 
them  with  courage  aud  cheer   them  on- 


ward, these  immortal  words  :  "The 
time  of  my  departure  is  at  hand.  I 
have  fought  a  good  fight,  I  have  finished 
my  course,  I  have  kept  the  faith  ;  hence- 
forth there  is  laid  up  for  me  a  crown  of 
righteousness,  which  the  Lord,  the 
righteous  Judge,  shall  give  me  at  that 
day,  and  not  to  me  only,  but  to  all  them 
also  that  love  his  appearing.''  How 
utterly  despicable  the  views  of  the  one 
appear  when  contrasted  with  those  of 
the  other. 


The  Mocking  Bird  of  Resaesfc- 

"Wavorly,"  the  accomplished  corres- 
pondent of  the  Appeal,  who  was  an  eye 
witness  and  participator  in  the  late 
battles  in  North  Georgia,  gracefully 
and  eloquently  relates  the  following 
pretty  incident  of  the  battle  of  Resaca  : 

In  the  hoHest  of  the  battle  of  Sunday, 
a  shell  came  screaming  through  the  air 
from  the  works  in  front  of  our  left.  It 
paused  above  a  point  where  Generals 
Johnston  and  Polk  were  standing,  whis- 
tled like  a  top  above  them,  and  before 
exploding,  whistled  half  a  doi^en  notes 
olear  as  a  fifo  to  the  drum-like  rattle  of 
musketry.  The  din  had  scarce  died  away, 
and  the  fragments  fallen  to  the  ground, 
when  the  attention  of  the  party  was 
directed  to  one  of  the  upper  boughs  of  a 
tall  pine,  where  a  mocking  bird  had 
begun  to  imitate  the  whistle  of  the  shell. 
Neither  the  roar  of  cannon,  nor  the 
rain  of  balls  could  drive  this  brave  bird 
from  its  lofty  perch.  It  sat  above  the 
battle  field  like  a  little  god  of  war,  its 
blythe  tones  warbling  over  the  din  of 
arrati — 

'•In  p  •  i>.--;  strains  of  unpremtditated  art,' 
and  its  stout  heart  as  f^ee  as  though  it 
swelled  t  >  the  breezy  winds  of  peace  in 
summer  wt/ods.  Thou  Toaclistone  of 
the  battle  field,  mocking  the  very  air 
of  death  and  pouring  out  a  cherry  can: 
tide  for  the  slain,  \vh>  are  happy  in 
I  dying   foi'  the  land   tbey  love,  thoa   art 


40 


THE     CAMP    FOLLOWER. 


the  true  type  of  the  great  Confederate 
heart.  Be  it,  like  thine,  as  bold  and 
free.  May  it  swell  as  it  is  pressed,  and 
grow  as  it  hurls  back  the  vandal  and 
invader.  May  it  stand  upon  its  own 
doorsil,  as  that  gallant  bird  stood  upon 
the  bough  of  the  pine,  and  trill  a  chaunt 
of  defiance  in  the  face  of  danger,  and 
though  despair  scan  its  boney  fingers 
about  its  throat,  may  its  armies  take  a 
lesson  from  thy  pli  ck,  thou  valliant 
mocking  bird,  and  sing  in  the  breach 
■and  about  on  the  hills,  to  the  music  of 
minie  ball  and  schrapnell,  never  doubt- 
ing, never  daunted,  defying  the  power 
of  the  word,  and  obedient  only  to  the 
God  of  the  oniverse.  For  he  who  dies 
in  the  front  dies  in  the  love  of  the  Lord, 
and  there  is  not  a  sentiment  truer  for 
the  soldier  than  that  the  brave  who 
perish  in  the  cause  of  liberty  are  thrice 
blessed  above  the  la:cy  sons  of  peace. 
"Nor  man  nor  monarch  half  so  proud, 
As  he  whose  flaar  becomes  his  shroud." 


The  Battle  of  Life. 

The  battle  of  life,  in  by  far  the  greater 
number  of  cases,  must  necessarilyi  be 
fought  up  hill,  and  to  win  it  without  a 
struggle  were  perhaps  to  win  it  without 
honor.  If  there  were  no  difficulties, 
there  would  be  no  success ;  if  there 
were  nothing  to  struggle  for,  there 
would  be  nothing  achieved.  Difficul- 
ties may  intimidate  the  weak,  but  they 
a«t  only  as  a  stimulus  to  men  of  pluck 
a»d  resolution.  All  experience  of  life, 
indeed,  serves  to  prove  that  the  impedi- 
ments thrown  in  the  way  of  human 
-^vanccmcnts  may  for  the  most  part  be 
'overcome  by  steady,  good  coaduct, 
eanest  zeal,  activity,  perseverance,  and, 
above  all,  by  a  determined  resolution 
to  surmount  difficulties  and  stand  up 
manfully  against  misfortune. 


Revenge  is  ever  tiie   pleasure  of  a 
paltry  spirit,  a  weak  and  abject   mind. 


It  will  not  always  do  to  follow  the 
example  of  illustrious  men.  To  illus- 
trate this  we  will  give  the  following 
story,  told  by  a  newspaper  writer  of 
himself : 

When  young,  he  heard  the  well  known 
story  of  George  Washington's  love ,  of 
truth,  and  his  father''s  love  of  the  noble 
principle  of  his  son,  so  well  manifested 
on  the  occasion  referred  to,  of  George'e 
cutting  down  the  cherry  tree,  acknow- 
ledging his  transaction,  and  receiving  a 
full  and  free  pardon,  besides  praisas  and 
kind  caresses  from  his  father.  So  Jim, 
actuated  by  so  noble  an  example, 
thought  he  would  try  the  experiment 
on.  He  supplied  himself  with  the 
hatchet,  and  going  into  his  father's 
orchard,  cut  dowi^  some  of  the  choice 
fruit  trees.  He  then  coolly  sat  down 
to  await  the  old  man's  coming  ;  ae 
soon  as  he  made  his  appearance,  he 
marched  up  to  him  with  a  very  impor- 
tant air  and  acknowledged  the  deed, 
expecting  the  next  thing  on  the  pro- 
gramme to  be  pardoned  with  tears, 
benediction  and  embraces  from  the 
oflfended  parent.  But  sad  to  relate, 
instead  of  this,  the  old  gentleman  caught 
up  a  hiskory  and  gave  him  an  "all- 
fired-lammina*- " 


Allow  a  boy  to  run  at  large  one  year 
in  indolence,  and  you  have  laid  the 
foundation  whereon  will  be  built  his 
future  ruin. 


Ax  Emperor  ox  War. — I  have  been 
enthusiastic  and  joyful  as  anj'  one  after 
a  victory ;  but  I  also  confess,  that  even 
the  sight  of  a  field  of  battle  has  not 
only  struck  me  with  horror,  but  even 
turned  me  sick  ;  and  now  that  I  am  ad- 
vanced in  life,  I  cannot  understand  any 
more  than  I  could  at  fifteen  years  of 
age,  how  beings,  who  call  themselves 
reasonable,  and  who  have  so  much  fore- 
sight, employ  this  short  existence,  not     i 


THE    CAMP    F»LL9WER. 


41 


in  loving  and  aiding  each  other,  and 
passing  through  it  gently  as  possible, 
but,  on  the  contrary,  endeavoring  to 
destroy  each  other,  as  if  Time  did  not 
himself  do  this  with  sufficient  rapidity  ! 
What  I  thought  at  fifteen  years  of  age, 
I  still  think  ;  'wars,  with  the  pain  of 
death  which  society  draws  upon  itself, 
are  but  organized  barbarism,  aa  inheri- 
tance of  the  savege  state,  disguised  or 
ornamented  by  ingcnioKs  institutions 
and  false  eloquence. 


^^.».Oi 


Mr  Smith  :  Having  been  recently 
within  Yankee  lines  near  New  Orleans 
where  I  had  often  the  pleasure  of  read- 
ing the  following  squib  to  the  great  de- 
light of  many  captured,  but  not  con- 
,  quercd,  and  presuming  its  circulation 
was  not  commensurate  with  its  merit,  I 
beg  leave  through  your  valuable  pages 
to  introduce  it  again  to  our  people, 
knowing  it  will  be  apprecietcd  as  one 
of  the  best  mock-heroics  of  the  war.  The 
irony  is  as  keen  and  delicate  as  Saladin's 
scimetar,  and  the  defensive  attitude  in 
which  'old  grand-ma'  places  'our  Fed'- 
ral  hero'  is  irresistibly  ludicrous.  The 
incident  occurred  during  the  life-time  of 
our  great  Captain,  hence  the  allusion  to 
him.  Leighton. 

The  Rebel  Sock. 

A  True  Episode  in  Seward^ s  Raids  on 

the  Old  Ladies  of  Maryla7id. 

BY  TENELLA. 

In  all  the  pride  aud  pomp  of  war 

.The  Lincolnite  was  drest, 
High  beat  bis  patriotic  heiart 

Beneath  bis  armored  vest. 
His  maiden  sword  bung  by  bis  side. 

His  pistols  botb  were  rigbt. 
His  shining  spurs  were  on  bis  liool-. 

His  coat  was  buttoned  tight. 
A  firm  resolve  sat  on  bis  brow. 

For  be  to  danger  went, 
By  Seward's  self  that  day  be  was 


On  secret  service  sent. 
'Monht  and  away !'  he  sternly  cried 

Unto  the  gallant  baod. 
Who  all  equipped  from  bead  to  heel 

Awaited  his  command. 
'But  halt,  my  boys — before  we  go 

These  solemn  words  I'll  say, 
'Lincoln  expects  that  every  niau 

His  duty'll  do  to-day  !' 
'We  will !  we  will!'  the  soldiers  cried, 

'The  President  shall  see 
That  we  will  only  run  away 

From  Jackson  or  from  Lee  !' 
And  now  they're  off,  just  four  score  men. 

A  picked  and  chosen  troup, 
And  like  a  hawk  uiftin  a  dove 

On  Maryland  they  swoop. 
From  right  to  left,  from  house  to  bouse. 

The  little  army  rides, 
In  every  lady's  wardrobe  look 

To  see  what  there  she  hides ; 
They  peep  in  closets,  trunks  and  drawers  ; 

Examine  every  box. 
Not  rebel  soldiers  now  they  seek, 

But  rebel  soldiers'  socks  ! 
But  all  in  vain — too  keen  for  them 

Were  those  dear  ladies  there, 
And  not  a  sock  or  flannel  shirt 

Was  taken  any  where. 
The  day  wore  on  to  afternoon, 

That  warm  and  drowsy  hour, 
When  Nature's  self  doth  seem  to  feel 

A  touch  of  Morpheus'  power  ; 
A  farm-house  door  stood  open  wide, 

The  men  were  all  away, 
The  ladies  sleeping  in  their  rooms. 

The  children  all  at  play. 
The  bouse  dog  lay  upon  the  steps. 

But  never  raised  his  head. 
Though  crackling  on  the  gravel  walk 

He  beard  a  stranger's  tread  ; 
Old  Grandma,  in  her  rocking  chair, 

Sat  knitting  in  the  ball, 
When  suddenly  upon  her  work 

A  shadow  seemed  to  fall ; 
She  raised  her  eyes  and  there  she  saw 

Our  Fed'ral  hero  stand, 
His  little  cap  was  on  hia  head, 

Ilis  sword  was  m  bis  hand  ; 
While  circling  round  and  round  the  house 

His  gallant  soldiers  ride, 
To  guard  the  0])en  kitchen  door 

And  the  chicken  coop  beside  ; 
Slowly  the  dear  old  lady  rose 

And  tottering  forward  came, 
And  peering  dimly  through  her  'specks,' 


42 


THE    GAMP    POLLOWER. 


Said,  'Honey  wbafs  your  name  ?' 
Tben  as  she  raised  her  withered  hand 

To  pat  his  sturdy  arm — 
There's  no  one  here  but  Graodmama, 

And  she  won't  do  you  harm  ; 
Oome,  take  a  seat  and  don't  be  scared, 

Put  up  your  sword,  my  child, 
I  would  not  hurt  you  for  the  world,' 

She  gently  said,  and  smiled. 
'Madam,  my  duty  must  be  done, 

And  I  am  firm  as  rock  !'  / 

Then,  pointing  to  her  worii,  he  said, 

'Is  that  a  rebel  sock  T 
Yes,  honej',  I  am  getting  old. 

And  for  hard  work  aiu't  fit, 
But  for  Confed'ratc  soMierS  still, 

I  thank  the  Lord,  can  knit.' 
'Madam,  your  work  is  contrabaad. 

An  3  Congress  confiscates 
This  rebel  sock  which  I  now  seize. 

To  the  United  States.' 
'Yes,  honey,  don't  be  scared,  for  1 

"Will  give  it  up  to  you.' 
Then  slowly  from  the'half  knit  sock 

The  dame  her  needles  drew. 
Broke  off  her  thread,  wound  up  her  ball 

And  stack  the  needles  in — 
Here,  take  it,  child,  and  I  to-night 

Another  will  begin !' 
The  soldiemext  his  loyal  heart 

The  dear-bought  trophy  laid, 
And  that  was  all  that  Seward  go; 

By  this  'old  woman's  raid." 


Raw  From  the  Emerald  Isle, 

In  the  Municipal  Court,  Boston,  late- 
ly, an  honest  but  rather  green  Hiber- 
hian  was  called  as  a  witness  in  a  cer- 
tain case,  when  the  following  questions 
and  answers  passed  between  the  county 
attorney  and  the  'gentleman  from  the 
ould  country.'  The  object  in  introduc- 
ing this  witness  was  to  show  the  time 
when  and  the  place  where  the  witness 
first  became  acqr\ainted  with  the  pris- 
oner on  trial.     The  attorney  asked, — 

'Where  did  you  first  see  O'Brien  V 

•In  Aist  Boston,  sir.' 

'Where  in  East  Boston  T 

'In  the  dock,  yer  honor.' 

'In  the  dock  I — what  was  he  doing  in 
the  dock  ?' 


'Standin'  still,  an'  it  piaze  ye.' 

'For  what  was  hq  standing-  still  in 
the  dock  ?' 

'Kaze  he  was  thired,  I  'spose,  sir.' 

'What  business  had  he  in  the  dock  V 

'What  baizness  had  he  ?  An'  sure  he 
had  the  same  baizness  that  onny  of  'em 
had.' 

'What,  and  whose  dock  was  it?' 

'The  dock  down  by  the  wather — Mr. 
Stimson's  dock' 

'What  season  of  the  year  was  it?' 

'Don't  know,  sir.' 

'Was  it  in  warm  or  cold  weather  ?' 

'Warm,  your  worship.' 

'In  what  month  was  it  ?'  • 

'July  an'  sure.' 

'Are  you  quite  sure  it  was  in  July  V 

'Yis  sir.' 

'How  are  you  sure  that  it  was  in 
July  that  you  first  saw  John  ?' 

'Jim  Sullivan  tould  me  'twas.' 

'Then,  of  your  own  knowledge  you 
do  not  know  that  it  was  in  July  that 
you  first  saw  John  O'Brien  ?' 

'Yis  sir.'  * 

'Might  it  not  have  been  in  June  that 
you  met  him  !' 

'In  June,  d'ye  say  ?' 

'Yes  ;  was  it  not  in  June  that  you 
saw  him  ?' 

'Och,  no,  yer  worship  ;  I  tould  ye 
-'twas  in  the  dhry  dock,  sir.' 

AD  in  the  room  here  smiled — not  in 
Tom  McLean's  however.  Mr.  Cooley 
continued,  as  soon  as  he  had  fairly 
'puckered  up'  again, — 

'Now,  witness,  can  you  say  positively 
whether  it  was  before  or  after  indepen- 
dence Day  that  you  met  O'Brien  ?' 

'  Nather  one,  sir.  The  first  thime  I 
met  'im  he  was  alone  in  the  sthrate, 
sure.' 

'Very  well,'  replied  the  attorney  ; 
'now.  answer  my  question — was  it  be- 
fore or  after  Independence  Day  that 
you  saw  John  in  the  dry  rlock  '!" 

•*  'Pon  me  sowl,  I  don't  know  Mr.  In- 
dependence  Day.      I   knows    Jemmy 


THE    GAMP    FOLLOWER. 


43 


Day,  an'  sure  he  was  not  there,  sir.' 

And  audible  tittering-  followed  the 
honest  confession  ;  the  Sheriff  called 
'silence,'  and  the  Court,  jury  and  attor- 
ney all  looked  sober  again,  whether 
they  were  so  or  not. 

'Witness,  now  can  you  tell  me  what 
mouth  comes  before  July  ?' 

'I  don't  know  what  y©  mane,  sir,"  said 
witness,  perfectly  bewildered. 

'What  month  foUoWs  July  T 

'Sure,  an'  1  don't  bother  mesilf  wid 
the  larnin'  uv  sichlike  thrities,  yer 
lionor.' 

'Well ;  do  you  kul.'^v  what  Indepen- 
dence Day  is,  or  when  it  comes  !' 

'Faix  an'  I  don't.  The  time  bez  short 
since  I  came  from  Lowell,  an"  it\s  few 
persons  I  knows  in  Astc  Boston." 

'You  know  when  St.  Patrick's  Dav 
is  ?' 

'Siventaanth  of  March,  sir.' 

'And  wlien  Christmas  comes  !' 

'Twinty-fefth  Deciraber.' 

'And  yet  yon  can  tell  nothihg  about 
lndepcnd«ncc  Day  ?" 

'Devil  a  word,  yer  worship  ;  he  may 
live  in  Astc  Bo.>-t.on,  but  it's  me  candid 
opinion  he's  nut  workin'  in  anny  uv  the 
yards  or  docks  there.' 

Here  the  witness  was  allowed  to  take 
his  'sate,'  when  the  Court  adjourned  to 
take  dinner  and  an  airinsr. 


No  Great  Hand  for  Angels. 

Last  Monday  an  old  lady  entered  a 
well  known  bookst<:>rc  and  inquired  for 
a  'Treatise  on  Ang-eJs.'  She  made  the 
inquiry  of  a  boy,  and  was  told  they 
'hadn't  got  no  sucli  book.' 

This  remark  caught  the  ear  of  the 
principal  salesman,  and  he  stepped  for 
ward  and  addressed  the  old  lady  : 

'We  are  just  out  of  the  book  you  are 
in  search  of,  ma'am,  but  we've  got 
Fox's  book  of  Martyrs,  crammed  full  of 
pictures— a  splendid  book  for  a  pre- 
sent ' 


'La,  sakea  !  dew  tell,'  exclaimed  the 
the  customer,  examining  the  book  ■ 
'why,  here's  a  picter  of  a  ehap  drinkin' 
pizen,  and  here's  a  lot  of  men  sawin'  a 
poor  feller's  head  off.' 

'That  gentleman  there,  ma'am,'  ex- 
plained the  salesman,  elucidating  the 
picture,  'is  taking  a  melted  lead  sanga- 
rec  ;  and  the  other  individual  is  about 
to  be  perforated  in  the  intestines  with 
a  patent  manure  fork.  1  gues«  you'd 
like  it  much  better  than  a  work  on  an- 
gels.' 

'Well,  now,  thatar  is  a  better  book, 
I  guess,  than  anything  else.  What 
mought  the  price  be  !' 

'Two  dollars,  ma'am — very  cheap 
book  at  that.' 

•  'AV'ell,  dew,  it  up.  My  darter's  jest 
got  married,  and  I  calkelate  to  make 
her  a  present.  She  wanted  suthin' 
about  angel.?,  but  I  never  was  so  great 
a  hand  for  angels,  no  how.' 

The  lady  handed  out  four  parcels, 
each  containing  fifty  coppers,  the  whole 
savoring  powerfully  of  maccoboy  snuff. 

The  sale  completed,  and  the  customer 
gone,  the  principal  called  up  the  boy. 
'See,  here,'  said  he,  'when  you  arc 
asked  a  for  thing  which  you  haven't  got 
always  show  the  nearest  article  like  it 
that  you  have.' 

'The  urchin  looked  reflective,  and 
came  near  to  asking  the  resemblance 
between  'Lives  of  the  angels'  and  'Fox's 
Book  of  Martyrs!'  But  a^  this  might 
have  cost  him  a  rebuke  from  the  prin- 
cipal, he  wisely  kept  quiet,  and  the  af- 
fair passed  off. 

A  Propkller. — Scene,  doorstop  of  a 
tip-top  fashionable  mansion-house— An 
Emerald  Isle  damsel,  on  important  bus- 
iness, rings — Lady  of  the  mansion 
about  to  open  to  let  her  husband  pass 
out, — 

Irish  Girl. — 'Good  mornin'  ma'am, 
and  ye,  too,  sir.  Ah,  an'  ye's  the  girl 
what  wanta  (he  ladv   ? 


44 


THE    GAMP     FOLLOWER. 


Lady. — 'No.  I  am  the  lady  who 
wants  the  girl.  Can  yon  do  general 
housework  V 

'0  yes,  ma'am.' 

'Can  you  do  chamber-work  ?' 

'No,  ma'am.'        ' 

'Can  you  cook  ?' 

'No,  ma'am.' 

'Can  you  wash  ajad  iron  ?' 

'No,  ma'am.' 

'Can  you  make  bread  ? 

'Indade,  no  ma'am ,' 

'Then,  my  dear  girl,  you  won't  isuit 
me.' 

Girl,  quite  astounded — 'Howly  Vir- 
gin !  I  never  came  to  this  counthry  to 
shoot  auybody,  ma'ani,  an'  if  I  don't 
shoot  ye,  the  divil  shoot  ye — an'  the 
divii  shoot  the  man  what  don't  shoot, 
the  lady  !     Good  momiV  rha'am.' 

Exit  Irish  girl,  and  door  closes  with 
a  ffood-humored  laugh  at  the   incident. 


Philosophy. — First  class  in  Oriental 
Philosophy  stand  up. 

'Tibbies,  what  is  life  ?' 

'Life  consists  of  money,  a  2:40  horse 
and  a  fashionable  wife.' 

'Good  1     Next,  what  is  death  V 

'A^paymeut  that  settles  everybody's 
debts,  and  gives  them  tombstones  as  re- 
ceipts in  full  of  all  demands.' 

'What  is  poverty  ?' 

'The  reward  of  merit  genius  generally 
receives  from  a  discrimining  public' 

'What  ^s  religion  i" 

'Doing  unto  others  as  you  please-, 
without  allowing  a  return  (jf  the  com- 
pliment.' 

'What  is  fame  V 

'A  six  line  puff  in  a  newspaper,  while 
living,  aud  the  fortune  of  your  enemies 
when  dead.' 

'Next  and  last.   Which  is  the  quickest 
and  easiest  method  to    reach  Heaven  V 

'Ask  the  Camden  and  Amboy  Rail- 
road Company.' 

'Class  dismissed — go  home  to  your 
dinners.' 


Military  Catechism,. 

BY  COL.  T.  C.  J*****. 

Scene— School-room — Class  in  Military 
affairs  stand  up. 

Question.  What  is  the  first  duty  of  ^ 
Brigadier  General  ? 

Answer.     To  swear  by  note. 

What  is  the  second  dutj'  ? 

To  drink  eve*'y  day  a  large  quantity 
of  bad  whiskey. 

What  is  the  third  dut\'  ! 

To  be  constaHtly  astonished  tliat 
these  and  other  feats  do  not  bring  him 
a  Major  General's  commission. 

What  is  the   first   duty  of  a  Colonel  ? 

To  lut  three  stars  on  his  collar. 

What  is  the  second  duty  ? 

To  see  that  his  regiment  is  never  put 
to  such  useless  work  as  drilling  in  the 
School  of  the  Battalion. 

What  is  the  third  dutj  ? 

To  imitate  the  Brigadier  Generals  in 
a  small  way,  especi&lly  in  the  fine  arts 
of  swearing  and  drinking.  • 

What  is  the  first  duty  of  a  Captain  ? 

To  forget  all  the  promises  he  made 
to  the  boys  when  he  was  elected,  and 
put  on  dignified  airs  in  the  presence  of 
his  old  associates. 

Wh^it  is  the  second  duty  ? 

To  get  a  finer  uniform  than  his  Colo- 
nel. 

W^hat  is  the  third  duty  ? 

To  become  the  best  pnker-player  in 
the  array. 

What  is  tiie  first  duty  of  an  Adjutant 
General  ? 

To  become  so  hufiish  that  cVery  one 
will  dislike  to  do  business  with  him. 

What  is  the  second  duty  ? 

To  fill  his  office  with  young  squirts,  a 
clerks  and  assistants,  to  look  fiercely  at 
visitors. 

What  is  the  third  drdy  ? 

To  perpetually  iutiigue  for  a  higher 
position  in  the  line,  provided  it  is  not 
attended  with  personal  danger. 


THE     CAMP    FOLLOWER. 


45 


What  is  the  duty  of  a  regular  aid  ? 

To  make  himself  important. 

What  is  the  second  duty  ? 

To  make  himself  very  important. 

What  is  the  third  duty  ? 

To  look  upon  those  gentlemen  who, 
through  patriotic  motives,  or  admiration 
of  his  chief,  volunteer  ,  to  serve  the 
country  without  compensation,  in  the 
capacity  of  an  aid,  as  a  sort  of  inter- 
loper that  interferes  with  his  impor- 
tance. 

What  is  the  first  duty  of  a  Quarter- 
master ? 

A  great  Captain  has  laid  down  the 
three  great  duties  of  this  officer.  He 
says  the  first  duty  is  to  make  himself 
comfortable. 

What  does  he  say  is  the  second 
duty  ? 

To  make  himself  damned  comforta- 
ble. 

What  does  he  lav  down  as  the  third 
duty  ? 

To  make  everybody*  else  damned  un- 
comfortable. 

What  is  the  first  duty  of  a  Commis- 
sary ?. 

To  take  all  the  delicacies  provided  in 
tlf^army  for  his  own  use. 

UVhat  is  the  second  duty  ? 

To   share   sparingly  said  delicacies 
with  his  friends,  and  never  let  them  go 
into  such   vulgar  places  as  the  mouths 
,  of'sick  soldiers. 

What  is  the  third  duty  ? 

To  be  very  particular  to  see  that  the 
requisitions  for  rations  arc  in  proper 
form — all  the  t's  crossed  and  i's  dotted— 
when  presented  by  soldiers  who  are 
sick  or  who  have  had  nothing  to  eat  for 
three  or  four  days. 

What  is  the  first  duty  of  a '  Medical 
Director  ? 

To  permit  the  sick  and  wounded  tu 
ta^e  care  of  themselves  ? 

What  is  the  second  duty  ? 

To  learn  the  sick  and  wounded  to  be 
of  little  trouble  to  the   medical  depart- 


ment, and  to  this  end  to  constantly  sh  ip 
those  mortally  wounded*,  or  in  extremes, 
to  distant  points,  without  attendants, 
and  without  anything  to  eat  or  drink. 

What  is  the  third  duty  ? 

To  emply  a  good  part  ol  his  time  in 
cursing  the  physician,  in  charge  of 
those  distant  hospitals,  forj  letting  so 
many  of  the  sick  and  wounded  die. 

What  is  the  first  duty  of  a  surgeon  ? 

Under  the  names  of  drugs  and  medi- 
cines, to  purchase  a  full  supply  of  good 
liquors. 

What  is  the  second  duty  ? 

To  cause  all  private  collars  to  be 
searched,  and  all  the  good  brandies 
found  there  to  be  confiscated,  lest  the 
owners  should  smuggle  them  to  the 
soldier,  give  them  away  and  make  the 
whole  army  drunk. 

What  is  the  third  duty  ? 

To  sec  that  he  and  his  assistants 
drink  up  all  of  said  liquors. 

What  is  the  fourth  duty  ? 

To  wear  the  largest  amount  of  gold 
lace,  and  be  always  absent  from  the 
post  of  da  nger  and  of  duty. 

W^hat  is  the  first  duty  of  a  Chap- 
lain ? 

Never  to  mention  the  subject  of  re- 
ligion to  the  soldiers. 

What  is  the  second  duty? 

To  preach  to  the  regiment  only  once 
a  year,  and  not  then  unless  specially 
requested  by*he  Colonel. 

What  is  the  third  duty  ? 

To  grumble  all  the  time  about  the 
smallness  of  his  pay. 

What  is  the  first  duty  of  pickets  ? 

To  go  to  sleep  on  their  posts. 

What  is  the  second  duty  ?  '     • 

To  wake  up  when  the  enemy's  pick- 
ets invite  them  to  come  over  and  take 
a  drink. 

What  is  the  tliird  duty  ? 

To  be  'driven  in'  upon  the  explosion 
of  the  first  Bhell. 

WTiat  is  the  first  duty  of  an   army  ? 

To  destroy  as  much  private  property 


46 


THE    CAMP    POL-LOWER. 


as  possible,  particnlavly  that  belonging 
to  its  friends. 

What  is  the  second  duty  ?  ■ 

To  parole  all  prisoners  taken  from 
the  enemy  who  are  known  to  have 
burned  houses,  stolen  negroes  or  mur- 
dered, women. 

What  is  the  third  duty  ? 

Always  act  on  the  defensive  and 
never  invade  the  enemy's  territory 
however  good  may  be  the  opportunity, 
although  he  may  be  ravaging  yours  all 
the  time. 

What  is  tic  iirst  duty  of  the  Govern- 
ment ? 

To  fill  all  its  important  posts  with_ 
Yankees  and  foreigners. 

What  is  the  second  duty  ? 

To  deliver  its  chief  cities  without 
striking  a  blow. 

What  is  the  thu-d  duty  ? 

Never  to  learn  from  experience. 

What  is  the  first  duty  of  the  South- 
ern people  ? 

To  keep  out  of  the  army. 

What  is  the  second  duty  ? 
•     To  make  all  the  money  they  can  out 
of  the  Govermnent  and  the  soldiers,  as 
was  come  seldom. 

What  is  the  third  duty  ? 

To  surrender  the  entire  trade  in  shoes 
and  clothing — on  which  trade  the  army 
is  dependent — to  tJiat  patriotic  class  of 
men  known  as  Jews,  who  are  too  con- 
scientious to  charge  the  govocnment  or 
the  army  a  profit  exceeding  two  thou- 
sand per  cent. 

What  is  the  fourth  duty  ? 

To  let  success  cause  a  relaxation  of 
their  exertions,  and  see  in  evei-y  little 
reverse  the  ruin  of  our  cause. 

That  will  do — take  your  seats. 


Bill  Aip,  The  Roman  Runagee 

Mr.  iditur:  "Remote,  onfrended,  melan- 
kollj,  Blow,"  as  somebody  eed,  I  am  nowseek- 
ia  a  log  in  Bome  vast  wilderness,  a  lonely  r»ost 
in  some  Okeefeenokee  swamp,  where  the  fowl 
invadere  cannot  travel  nor  their  pontoon  bridgea 


phloat.     If  Mr.  Shakepeere  were   correa   when 

be  writ  that  "ewcetare  the  juices  of  adversity, " 

tbe^n  it  are  resunabul  to  Buppose  that  me  and  my 

foaks  and  many  others  must  have  some  sweet- 

nin  to  spare.     When  a  man  15  aroused  in   the 

ded  of  night,  and  smells  the  approach  of  the 

fowl  invader  ;   when  he  feels  konstrained  to 

change  his  base  and  beknm  a  runagee  from  his 

home,;|leavin  behind  him  all  those  ususary  things 

which  bold  body  aqd  soul  together  ;   when  be 

looks,'  perhaps  the  last  time,   upon   his   lovely 

home  where  he  has  been   for  many   delightful 

years  raisin  children  and  chickens,  strawberries 

and  peas,  lie  soap   and   inyuns,    and  all   such 

laxuries  of  this   subordinate  life  ;    when  he 

imagines  every  onusual  sound  to  be  the  crack 

J  of  his  earthly  doom  ;  when  from  sich  influences 

j  he  begins  a  dignified  retreat,  but  soon   is   koo- 

i  strained  to  leave  the  dignity  behind,  and   git 

I  away  without  regard  to  the  order  ot  his  going 

I  — if  there  is  any  sweet  juice  ia  the  like  of  that, 

I  I  havent  been  able  to  see  it.     No,    Mr.   Kditur, 

i  sich  scenes  never  happened  in  Bill   Shakspeer'f^ 

I  daV,  or  he  wouldcui  have  writ  that  line. 

i  don't  knoNv  ih:Vi  V.n-  lovely  inhabitants  of 
your  butifulsitty  need  any  fourwarnins  to  make 
'em  avoid  the  breakers  upon  which  our  vessel 
wrecked  ;  but  for  fear  they  should  some  day 
shake  their  gory  locks  at  me,  I  will  make  publik 
a  breef  allusion  to  some  of  the  painful  sirkum- 
stances  which  lately  okkurred  in  the  regions  of 
the  eternal  sitty. 

Not  many  days  ago,  the  cverlastin  Yankees 
(may  they  live  always  when  the  devil  gits  em) 
made  a  violent  oseault  upon  the  sitty  of  the 
hills — the  eternal  sitty,  where  a  hundred  years 
the  Injun  rivers  have  been  blendin  their  waters 
peacefully  together — whera  the  Choktaw  chil- 
dren built  their  flutter  mills  and  toyed  with 
frogs  and  tadpoles  while  these  jnajestik  streams 
were  but  little  spring  branches  a  bablin  along 
their  sandy  beds.  For  3  days  and  nights  or.: 
valyunt  troops  had  beat  bak  the  fowl  invader, 
and  saved  our  pul'ets  from  their  devourin  jaws. 
For  3  days  and  nights  we  bade  farewell  to  every 
fear,  luxuriating  upon  the  triumph  of  our  arms, 
and  the  sweet  juices  of  our  strawberries  and 
cream .  For  3  days  and  nights  fresh  troops 
from  the  South  poured  into  our  streets  witii 
shouts  that  made  the  welkin  ring,  and  the  tur- 
key bumps  rise  all  over  the  flesh  of  our  people. 
We  felt  that  Rome  was  safe — sekare  against  the 
assaults  of  the  world,  the  flesh  and  the  -devil, 
which  last  individual  are  supposed  to  be  that 
horde  of  fowl  invaders,  who  are  seekin  to  phlank 
us  out  of  both  bread  and  existence. 

But  alas  for  human  hopes  I  Man  that  is  born 
of  woman  (and  there  are  no  other  sort  that? 
know  of)  has  but  few  days  that  ain't  full  of 
trouble.  Altho  the  troops  did  shout,  altho 
their  brass  band  musik  swelled  upon  the  gak, 
altho  the  turkey  bumps  rose  ae  the  welkin  rung, 


\ 


THE    CAMP    POLLOWHR. 


47 


altbo  the  ccnnmaadmg  Genajal  assured  us  t-hat 
Rome  was  to  be  held  at  every  baaard,  and  that 
on  to-morrow  the  big  battul  was  to  be  fought, 
and  the  fowl    invaders  hurled    all  howl  in  and 
bleedin  to  the  shores  of  the  Ohio,    yet  it  did 
li'anspire  some  how  that  on  tnesday  night,  the 
military  evakuation  of  our  sitty  were  pcrempto- 
rilyordered.     No  note  of  warnin,  no  whisper  of 
alarm  no  hint  of  the  morrow  came  from  the  muz- 
zled lips  of  him  who  had  lifted  our  hopes  so  high . 
Calmly  and  cooly,  we  smoked  our  killykinick, 
and  BTirveyed  the  embarkation   of  troops,  kon- 
struin  it  to  be  some  grand  manoover  of  military 
strategy.     About  10  o'clock   vre  retired  to  rest 
to  dream  of  to-morrows   viktory.     81pep  soon 
overpowered  us  like  the  fog    that  kivered  the 
earth,  but  ntvry  bright    dream  had   !-:ura,  nary 
vision  of  freedom  and  glory.     On  the  kontrary 
cur  rest  were  uneaey — strawberries  and  cream 
seemed  to  be  holdin    secession  meetins    within 
our   corporate    limits,  when    suddenly    in  the 
twinklin  of  an  eye,  a  friend    aroused  us   from 
our    slumber  and    put  a  new    fazo    upon   the 
"situation."  Gen.  Johnston  was  retreatin,  and 
the  blue  nosed    Yankees    were  to    pollute  our 
sakred  soil  next  mornin.    Then  cum  the  jug  of 
war.     With  hot  and  feverish  haste,  we  started 
out  in  search  of  transportation,  bnt  nary  trans- 
port could    be  had.    Time  honerd    freudship, 
past  favors  shown,  evcrlastin  gratitood,  numer- 
ous small  and  luvely  chilern,  kunfederate  kur- 
rency,  new  isshoes,  bank  bills,  llacli  bottles, 
all  influences  were  urged  and  used  to  sekure  a 
korner  in  a  kar,  but  nary  korner — too  late — too 
late — the  pressure  for  time  was  fearful  and  tre- 
menarions — the    steady    clock    moved   on — no 
Joshua   about  to  lengthen    out  the    night,  no 
rollin  stock,  no  steer,  no  mule.     With  reluk- 
tant  and    hasty    steps,  we    prepared    to  make 
good  our  exit  by  thai  overland   line  which  rail 
roads  do  not  control,  nor  A  Q  Ms  impress. 

With  our  families  and  a  little    clothing,    we 
crossed    the  Etowah  bridge  about  the  broke  of 
day  on  Wednesday  the  Ifth   of  May,    1864— 
preeakly    a  year  and  two  weeks  from  the  time 
When  General   Forrest    marched    in    triumph 
through    our    streets.     By  and  by,  the  brioht 
rays  of  the  mornin    sun  dispersed    the    heavy 
fog    which    like  a  pall  of  deth  hai  overspread 
all  nalur.     Then  were  exhibited  to  our    afflict- 
ed gaze,  a  highway  crowded  with  wagins    and 
teams,  kattle  and  bogs,  niggers  and  dogs,    tve- 
men    and    children,    all    movin  in  dishevelled 
haste  to  places    and    parts    unknown.     Mules 
were  I'luyin,    cattle   weje    lowin,     hogs    were 
squeciin,    sheep    were    blatin,    childic;.   weiv 
cryin,  wappiners  tusein,    whips   were    poppin, 
and  horses  etallin,  but  still  the  grand  karavan 
moved    on.     Ever}  body    was    kontinually    a 
lookin  behind,  and  drivin    before — everybody 
wanted  lo  know  evcTything,  and  nobody  knew 
nothin.     Ten  thousand  wild  rumors  filled    the 


Birkumambient  air.  The  ereriastin  kavalry 
was  there,  and  as  tiey  dashed  to  and  fro,  gave 
false  alarms  of  the  enemy  bein  in  hot  pursnit. 
Abont  this  most  kritikul  juncture  of  affairs, 
some  philanthropik  frend  passed  by  with  the 
welkum  news  that  the  bridge  wer  burnt,  and 
the  danger  all  over.  Then  ceased  the  panick 
then  came  the  peaceful  calm  of  heroes  after  the 
strife  ot'  war  is  over — than  esklaimed  Frank 
Ralls,  my  demoralized  frend,  "thank  the  good 
Lord  for  that.  Bill  lets  retnrn  thanks  and 
stop  and  rest — boys  let  me  git  out  and  lie 
down — I  am  as  humble  as  a  ded  nigger— I  tell 
yon  the  truth — I  sung  the  long  meter  doxology 
as  J  crossed  the  Etowah  bridge,  and  I  espekted 
to  be  a  ded  man  in  15  minutes.  Be  thankful 
fellers,  lefci  all  be  tliankful— the  bridge  is 
burnt,  and  the  river  is  three  miles  deep.  Good 
sakee,  do  you  rekun  them  Yankees  kan  swim  ? 
Git  up  boys — lets  drive  ahead  and  keep  movin 
— I  tell  you  theres  no  akkountin  for  anything 
with  blue  clothes  on  these  days— dingd  iff 
aint  a  feerd  of  a  blue  tailed  fly.'' " 

With  most  distressin  flow  of  language,   he 
kontinued  hi^  rapsody  of  random  remarks. 

Then  there  was  the  trump  of  good  fellow«, 
Big  John — as  clever  as  he  is  fat  and  as  fat  as  old 
Falstaff— with  indc/biigable  dilligence  he  had 
sekured  as  a  last  resort,  a  one  horse  steer  spring 
waggin,   with  a  low  flat  body  a  settin  on  two 
riketty    springs.     Bein  mounted    thereon,   be 
was  nrgin  a  more  speedy  locomoshun,  by  layin 
on  to  the  karkass  of   the  poor  old  steer  with  a 
thrash  pole  some  ten  feet  long.     Havin  stopped 
at  a  house,  he  prokurod  a  two  inch  auger,  and 
borin  a  hole  thro  the    dash  board,    pulled  the 
steer's  tail   through  and  tied   up  the  end  in  a 
knot.     "My  runnin  gear   is   weak,'    said  be, 
"but  I  don't  intend  to  be  stuck  in  the  mud.    If 
the  body  holds  good,  and  the  steer  don't  pull 
offhistail,whyBilI,Iameafe."  "My  frend,"  sed 
I,  "will  you  please  to  inform  me  what  port  yon 
are  bound  for,  and  when  vou   expect  to  reach 
it?"     "No  portal  all.   Bill,"    sed  he,    "lam 
goin  ded  strate  to  the  big  Stone  Monntaia.     I 
am  goin  to  git  on  the  top  and  roll  rocks  down 
upon   all    mankind.     I  now    forew.im    every 
livin  thing  not  to  kum  thar  ontil   this  everlai- 
tin  foolishness  is  over."   He  were  then  bnt  three 
miles  from  town,    and  been   travellin  the  live- 
long   night.     Ah,    my    big  frend   thought  I, 
when  wilt  thou    arrive  at  thy  journeys  eend? 
In  the  language  of  Patrick  Henry,  will  it  be  the 
next  week,  or  the  next  year?   Oh,  that  I  kould 
write  a  Poura,  I  would  embalm  thy  honest  face 
iu  epik  verse.    "I  kan  only  drop  to  thy  pleasant 
memory  a  passing  random  rhymo :        ^ 

Farewell,  Big  John,  fareweH  I 

'Twas  painful  to  mv  hearty 
To  see  thy  chances  of  escape. 

Was  that  old  steer  and  kart. 


48 


THE     CAMP    FOLLOWER. 


Me  thinks  I  see  thee  now, 

With  ajdetrees  all  broke. 
And  wheels  with  nary  hub  at  all, 

And  hubs  with  nary  spoke. 

But  though  the  mud  is  deep, 

Thy  wits  will  never  fail ; 
That  faithful  steer  will  take  the  out, 

If  thou  wilt  hold  his  tail. 

Mr.  Editur,  under  sich  varygated  scenes  we 
reported  progress,  and  in  course  of  time  arrived 
under  the  shadow  of  the  sitty's  wings,  abound- 
in  in  gratitude  and  joy. 

With  sweet  and  patient  sadness,  the  tender 
hearts  of  our  wives  and  daughters  beat  mourn- 
fully as  we  mov^d  along.  Often,  alas  how 
often,  was  the  tear  seen  swiming  in  the  eye, 
and  the  lip  quivring  with  emotion,  as  memory 
lingered  around  their  deserted  homes,  thoughts 
dwelt  upon  past  enjoyments  and  future  desola- 
tion. We  plucked  the  wild  flowers  as  we 
passed,  sang  songs  of  merriment,  exchanged 
our  wit  with  children' — smothering,  by  every 
means,  the  sorrow  of  our  fate.  These  things, 
together  with  the  comick  events  that  okkurred 
by  the  way,  werp  the  safety  valves  that  saved 
the  poor  heart  from  bursting.  But  for  sich 
things  our  heads  would  have  been  foun- 
tains and  our  hearts  a  river  of  tears.  Oh,  if 
some  kind  frend  would  set  our  retreat  to 
musik,  if  he  could  make  a  tune  to  fit  the  man- 
ner of  our  leaving,  and  the  emotions  which  befell 
us  by  the  way,  it  would  be  greatly  appresiated 
indeed.  It  should  be  a  plaintive  tune,  inter- 
spersed with  okkasional  comick  notes  and  fre- 
quent fuges  skattered  promiskuously  along. 

Mr.  Editur,  the  world  will  never  know  the 
half  that  transpired  in  these  eventful  times,  un- 
less my  frend,  Frank  Ralls,  are  kalled  upon  to 
deliver  a  kourse  of  lektures  upon  the  subjek. 
What  he  don't  know,  or  dident  do  himself,  are 
not  worth  knowing  or  doing.  Our,  retreat 
were  kondukted  in  excellent  good  order,  atter 
the  bridge  was  burnt.  If  there  were  any 
stragglin  at  all,  they  straggled  ahead.  It 
wound  have  delighted  Gen.  Johnston  to  have 
seen  the  alakrity  of  our  movements. 

If  I  were  vain  enuf  to  assert,  that  I  wer  con- 
sidered the  commanding  offiser  of  this  remark- 
able retreat,  I  should  say  that  our  suksess  were 
mainly  due  to  the  able  Coadjutors  who  were 
with  me.  I  would  hand  their  names  down  to 
posterety,  Mr,  Editur,  but  where  so  many  acted 
gallantly,  it  are  impossibul  to  draw  distink- 
shuns.  The  great  struggle  of  our  contest  seemed 
to  be,  which  army  could  retreat  the  fastest. 
Gen.  JohnBton  or  ourn — which  could  outphlank 
the  other,  ^nd  I  allow  as  how  it  wer  pull  Dick 
•  pull  Devil  between  em.  It  ar  a  source  of  regret 
however  that  some  of  our  households  of  the 
Afrikan  scent, .have  fell  back, in  the  arms  of  the 
fowl  invaders      I  suppose  they  may   now  be 


kalled  missin  genaturs,  and  are  by  this  time  in- 
kreasin  the  stock  of  Odour  d'Afrique  in  North- 
ern society,  which  popular  perfume  have 
scourged  out  of  the  market  *all  those  extracts 
which  made  X  Bazin,  Jules  Haul,  and  Lubin 
famous.  Good  bye  sweet  otter  of  Roses,  fare- 
well ye  balms  of  a  thousand  flowers — your  days 
are  numbered. 

But  I  must  klose  this  melankolly  narrative 
and  hasten  to  subskribe  myself, 

Your.Runagee,  Bill  Arp. 

P.  S. — Tip  are  still  faithful  onto  the  end. 
He  say  the  old  turkey  we  left  behind  have  been 
settin  for  14  weeks,  and  the  fowl  invaders  are 
welkum  to  her — furthermore  that  he  throwd  a 
dead  cat  in  the  well  and  they  are  welkum  to 
that.  •  B.  A. 


A  Chemical  View  of  Death. — M. 
Biot,  a  French  author,  in  speaking  of 
philosophers  whose  views  of  immortality 
are  scientific,  but  peculiar,  says  : 

You  do  not  die,  you  only  change  your 
state  of  aggregation.  It  is  true  your 
nitrogen,  your  hydrogen  and  your  car- 
bonate seperate  ;  they  are  distributed 
through  the  atmosphere,  penetrate  plants 
and  animals,  or  are  absorbed  by  the 
eaith  ;  but  as  no  atom  perishes,  you 
continue  to  exist ;  the  only  difference 
is  that  you  find  yourself  reduced  to  a 
more  simple  expression. 


When  the  Duchess  o^  Sutherland  was 
questioning  the  child]  en  of  one  of  her 
charity  schools,  the  teacl^er  asked : 

'What   is  liie  wife  of  a  king  called  V 

'A  queen,'  bawled  out  one  of  the  ju  - 
venile  philosophers. 

'The  wife  of  an  emperor  ?' 

'An  empress,"  was  replied  with  eqjial 
readiness. 

•Then  what  is  the  wife  of  a  duke 
called  V 

'A  drake  I'  exclaimed  several  voices, 
mistaking  the  title  duke  for  the  biped 
duck,  which  is  pronounced  the  same  in 
Scotland.  ^  ■ 

The  teacher  fainted. 


THE    (-AMP    FOLLOWEa. 


49 


Swapping  Wives. — In  some  ol'  the 
English  proviDcial  towns  the  barbarous 
practice  of  a  husband  bringing  his  wife 
to  market  with  a  halter  round  her  neck 
and  selling  her  to  the  highest  bidder 
might  have  been  witnessed  a  few  years 
ago.  An  improvement  upon  this  system 
has  taken  place  in  Beardstown,  Cass 
county,  Illinois.  Leroy  Taylor,  a  car- 
penter, and  his  family,  living  there, 
happy  to  all  appearances,  were  visited 
in  1857  by  a  sister  of  Taylor's  wife, 
from  Richmond,  Indiana.  She  is  de- 
scribed as  gay,  good  looking,  and  very 
winning  in  her  ways,  and  without  ex- 
citing suspicion'^  was  noticed  to  pay 
particular  attention  to  her  brother-in- 
law.  Last  year  the  husband  made  ar- 
rangements to  leave  the  neighborhood 
with  the  ostensible  object  of  iuiproving 
his  condition,  having  more  liberally 
than  usual  provided  for  his  family  be- 
fore taking  leave.  Weeks  elapsed  with- 
out any  tidings  of  him  reaching  his  wife. 

The  first  intimation  received  was  that 
he  had  repaired  to  Richmond,  Indiana, 
where  his  sister-in-law  lived,  and  inform- 
ed her  husband  that  ho  was  on  his  >vay 
to  Pitt.sburg,  Pa.,  to  visit  his  mother- 
in-law.  The  wife  concluded  that  it 
would  be  a  favorable  time  for  her  also  to 
visit  her  mother,  and  that  she  would  go 
with  her  brother-in-law.  It  would  be 
euch  a  favorable  time,  the  husband  con- 
sented, and  the  parties  prepared  for 
their  intended  trip  ;  but  instead  of  vis- 
iting Pittsburg,  they  left  for  parts  un- 
known. These  facts  becoming  fuily 
known,  the  wife,  despairing  of  ever 
aeeing  her  btisband  brought  s-uit  for  a 
divorce  from  her  husband.  She  has 
lived  in  Beardstown  until  last  Monday, 
industrious  and  reapectablc,  when  .slic, 
with  her  family,  started  for  Indianapolis, 
Indiana,  where  her  brother-in-law  resides 
(Mr.  Wm.  B.  niggins,)  who  was  so  iin- 
fortuualo  as  to  lose  his  wife,  he  having 
also  obtained  a  divorce  ;  and,  strange 
to  Bay,   married    Mra.  Taylor.      This 


seems  to  be  a  fair  exchaniyc.  Taylor 
runs  off  with  Higgins'  wife,  and  now 
Higgins  marries  Taylor's  wife.  Hig- 
gins appears  to  have  the  best  of  the 
bargain — the  best  woman,  and  the  three 
children  to  boot. 


'Bill,  what  brought  you  to  prison  ? 
I'm  surprised.' 

'Pooh  !  you  needn't  be.  A  couple  ol' 
constables  invited  me.' 

'Very  civil  invitation,  certainly.  But 
had  liquor  nothing  to  do  in  the.,  aifair  ?' 

'Well — ahem  !— yes.  EIi;:a  teased 
me  so,  I  had  to  'lick'  her.' 

Bill  is  a  wag  of  the  first  water. 

DE.  PANSTS  FAKMIKG,  AND  MES.  PANSY'S 
HOUSEKEEPING. 

In  the  year  18 — ,  there  came  to  settle  in  our 
quiet  neighborhooci,  Dr.  and  Mra.  Pansy.  '  No 
one  knew  anything  about  them  excepting  our 
member  of  Congress,  who  had  known  tho  Dr's 
father  in  his  youth,  whom  he  represented  as  a 
wild,  good-for-naught  young  Virginian  of  con- 
siderable fortune,  which  he  scattered  to  the 
winds,  and  more  than  considerable  talent,  of 
which  he  made  a  very  poor  use,  and  becoming 
needy,  his  friends  procured  for  him  the  consul- 
ship of  M-^ ,  an  unimportant  post  on  the 

Mediterranean,  and  that  was  the  last  Mr.  H — 
heard  of  him.  The  Doctor  was  a  quiet,  gentle- 
manly person,  and  his  wife  a  lovely  little  dark 
eyed  creature,  with  a  profusion  of  dark  brown 
hair,  which  she  arranged  with  matchless  grace 
and  elegance.  It  was  knotted  behind  as  ladies 
usually  wear  it,  but  instead  of  all  being  con- 
fined by  the  carved  and  gold  inlaid  shell  comb, 
it  fell  around  her  neck  and  ears  (not  upon  her 
face)  in  a  multitude  of  ringlets.  The  comb  was 
there  and  seemed  to  do  its  office,  for  a  coil  of 
glossy  hair  lay  around  it,  but  the  ringlets  made 
their  escape  in  some  way  or  other. 

The  good  people  of  tlia  neighborhood  called 
upon  the  Pacsy's,  for  when  were  Southern  peo- 
ple ever  lacking  jn  courtoey  and  hospitality  ; 
and  everybody  took  kindly  to  Mrs.  Pansf,  but 
the  Doctor  was  pronounced  'odd.'  They  dig- 
coveied  that  notwithstanding  his  modicai  edu- 
cation at  Pars,  he  bad  become  itif(;etod  with 
some  Northern  isma,  and  ia  diet  wns  a  vegeta- 
rian. Now  tho  idea  of  oatiug  no  fJesh  meat 
excited  iu  our  bapon-lovipg  squires,  the  utmost 
contempt  and  ridicule.  So  lor  many  years  he 
got  but  little  or  no  praoiice,  but  proved  him- 


5^ 

self  a  capital  farmer,  and  this  i&ised  him  muob 
,  in  the  efitimation  of  his  ceighbors.  One  winter 
I  was  seized  with  infiammatory  rheumatism, 
and  after  submitting  to  old  Dr.  L-'s  treatmetit 
for  some  weeks,  and  growing  no  better,  I  deter- 
mined, in  spite  of  the  opposiuon  of  the  kind 
people  with  whom  I  boarded,  to  send  for  Dr. 
Pansy.  I  soon  experienced  decided  benefit  from 
his  remedies,  and  was  able  to  be  out  again. 
But  tho'  relieved  from  pain  and  able  to  walk, 
I  continued  miserably  weak  and  low  spirited. 
I  could  not  shake  off  the  feeling  of  gloom  which 
oppressed  me — the  heart-eick  longing  for  home 
and  the  faces  of  my  mother  and  sisteys.  I  had 
no  appetite,  and  in  vain  my  landlady  tempted 
me  with  whao  she  thought  the  most  delicate  of 
dainties— I  c-ould  not  eat.  The  Dr.  had  never 
prescribed  any  particular  diet  for  me,  and  I 
concluded  that  his  vegetarian  tastes  oi'  princi- 
ples was  all  a  mistake,  when  one  day  finding 
m9  unusually  feeble  and  listless,  he  said  : 

'My  dear,  sir,  you  need  change  ;  and,  pardon 
me,  a  strictly  vegetable  diet.' 

My  landlady,   who   was   ia   lbs  room,  was 
aghast,  and  exclaimed : 
■  'Why,  Doctor,  a  vegetable  diet  v/euld  kill 
him — he  is  already  so  weak  that  he  needs  the 
most  nourishing  fooa.' 

'Nevertheless,'  said  the  Dr.  quietly,  'I  re- 
commend change  of  air  and  vegetable  diet — 
come  over  to  my  house  and  remain  as  our  guest 
as  long  88  you  can  endure  our  vegetable  diet, 
and  see  at  least  what  effect  it  will  have." 
,  ^  I  accepted  at  OBce  the  invitation,  for  I  longed 
foe  change.  The  Dr.  left  me,  saying  he  would 
be  at  home  in  the  course  of  the  morning,  and 
I  must  ride  over  when  the  air  becomes  some- 
what warmer. 

The  ride,  though  but  five  miles,  fatigued  me 
greatly ;  and  Dr.  Pansy,  who  rode  up  to  his 
door  just  as  I  arrived,  assisted  mc  up  the  steps 
and  conducted  me  into  his  study;  where  be 
made  me  lie  down  upon  the  sofa,  and  brought 
me  a  glass  of  wine. 

'A  good  nap  will  now  do  more  for  you  than 
anything  else,  and  I  leave  you  for  that  pur- 
pose,' 

He  gently  closed  the  door,  and  the  home 
like  order  of  everything  arouno  me  in  this  quiet 
little  snuggery,  had  an  inexpre«6ibly  soothing 
fefifect  upon  me— I  slept.  I  was  awakened  by 
the  entrance  of  the  Dr.,  who  said  cheerfully: 
'Thip  is  wtU— now  a  little  fresh  air  before  din- 
ner will  be  your  best  appetizer — sol  will  sbow 
you  my  garden  and  orcba'd' 

I  fell  so  much  refreshed  thai  I  was  quite 
ready  for  anything  be  proposed.  First,  be  look 
me  to  his  fruit  garden — everything  was  set  out 
in  long  rows  from  end  to  end.  First  in  order 
oame  the  figs — I  was  astonished  at  their  num 


•PHE    CAMP    FOI/LOWER. 


ber — six  long  rows  of  fig  trees.  Then  the  rasp- 
berries, then  the  currants,  then  the  gooseber- 
ries, then  the  strawberry  beds  covered  with  the 
brown  withered  leaves  of  last  Season.  A  little 
rustic  gate  lead  from  the  firuit  garden  into  the 
orchard. 

'These  are  my  winter  apple  trees,'  said  he — 
'nearly  all  of  Southern  origin — the  first  ten 
rows  are  Shockley,  our  best  late  keeper ;  the 
nexit  six  1-OW3  are  Nicka^acks,  and  the  next 
Cullasaga,  and  so  on.' 

After  enumeratmg  all  his  varieties  we  passed 
on  to  the  pear  orchard,  but  I  will  not  weary  the 
reader  repeating  the  names  of  his  Beurres  and 
Dogeanes.  It  was  a  warm  day  for  the  season, 
and  reaching  a  circular  seat  around  a  corner 
pear  tree,  which  commanded  an  extensive  view 
of  the  fields  beyond,  we  sat  down. 

'That  newly  cleared  field  is  in  wheat,  you 
gee.  1  always  put  my  freshest  land  in  wheat 
because  it  produces  the  finest  fiavored  grains'- 
Finest  flavored  wheat,'  said  I  Trith  a  stupid 
stare. 

'Certainly,  my  dear  sir ;  there  is  as  great  a 
difference  in  the  taste  of  wheat  grovvn  on  fresh 
rich  soil,  and  that  produced  on  a  red  washed 
hillside,  as  between  pine  apples  and  pine  sha- 
vings. Being  vegetarians,  my  wife  and  I  are 
rather  fastidious  about  the  quality  of  our  edi- 
bles, and  I  take  the  same  pains  in  growing  and 
s'toring  my  cereals,  fruits  and  roots,  that  you 
camiverous  gentlemen  do,  in  raising  and  curing 
the  finest  Suffolk  pigs,  Durham  cattle,  and 
Southdown  sheep.' 

'But  do  you  not  use  butter  and  cream,   i 

'No,  1  do  not— Dr.  Graham  allowed  these 
thmgs,  but  I  am  strictly  vegetarian.' 

'But  you  do  not  impose  it  upon  your  patients 
generally.' 

'No,'  said  he,  smiling,  'for  the  smiple  reason 
that  it  is  useless.  People  are  not  prepared  for 
that  yet  8o  I  content  myself  with  practicmg 
medicine  as  I  was  taught  in  Paris,  by  book 

and  rule.' 

'But,  Doctor,'  said  I,  'is  it  not  a  sort  of  mar- 
tyrdom to  live  on  vegetables.  Do  you  not  have 
a  constant  longing  for  the  nice  things  you  deny  . 
yourself?' 

He  laughed.  , 

'As  great  a  longing  as  yon  have  for  the  aogs 
and  cats  so  nicely  prepared  by  the  Chinese.  No 
sir,  I  loathe  aoimal  food ;  the  smell  of  bacon 
makes  me  sick  ;  beet  and  poik  are  scarcely  less 
ofifensive,  and  such  is  the  case  with  all  vegeta- 
rians after  persevering  in  the  system  for  many 

jearS-'  ,       .  ^  r  J 

We  now  returned  to  the  house,  and  we  touud 
Mrs.  Pansy  in  the  dining  room,  reading  a  news- 
aper  h  twia  leisurely,  unoccupied  air,  as  tho' 


THF     GAMr    FOLLOWER. 


61 


SQCb  thiDgs  ae  housekeeping  and  diuDers  were 
not.  Dinner  was  late,  and  I  felt  a  sensa-Uon  of 
bungeJ,  for  the  nrst  time  for  months,  and  I  be- 
gan to  have  some  appreheneions  about  my  din- 
ner. I  thought  with  some  degree  of  compla- 
cency of  my  kind  landlady's  fried  chicken  and 
rice,  wbich  I  inmed  away  from  only  the  day 
before  with  utter  indifference.  I  even  thought 
I  could  stand  a  dish  of  ham  and  eggs,  and  a 
juicy  steak  would  have  been  more  than  wel- 
come. After  dressing,  I  was  summoned  to  tiie 
dining  room.  On  entering,  savory  odors  sur- 
prised me;  anl  the  appearance  of  the  table 
was  so  elegant  aud  tempting,  that  I  suppose 
my  face  expressed  my  thoughts,  for  I  noticed 
the  faintest  shadow  of  an  amused  smile  on  my 
friend's  face.  There  w.'^a  the  soup  tureen  'in 
its  usual  place.  There  was  the  wine,  the  cas- 
tors, the  celery  glasses,  tne  pickle  dishes — 
everything  arranged  as  I  had  been  accustomed 
to  see  at  the  tables  of  other  people. 

The  soup  was  a  delicious,  ereajny  compound, 
which  I  could  scarcely  persuade  myself  was 
purely  vegetable,  and  I  asked  Mrs.  Pansy  for 
the  recipe  to  send  to  my  mother.  She  said  the 
vegetables  were  lirst  fried  in  6liv6  oil,  (celery 
onions,  tiirnips  and  cabbage,  all  white  in  color) 
they  were  then  boiled  to  a  pulp,  and  a  morsel 
of  flour  thrown  in  to  mis  vC^th  ihe  oil  and  pre- 
vent its  floating  on  the  surface.  Pepper,  spices, 
and  a  glass  of  vyine  were  added,  and  sippets  of 
bread  cut  into  dice  and  Iried  in  olive. oil. 

(There  is  the  reoioe,  ladies,  I  advise  you  to 
try  it.) 

"When  tiie  sdip  was  removed,  a  dish  of  im- 
mense Irish  potatoes,  with  their  mealy  hearts 
bursting  through  their  brown  coats,  and  smo- 
king hot,  was  placed  before  my  host.  When 
the  dish  was  helped,  seeing  no  butter,  I  thought 
I  had  beiu  !•  'look  and  learn'  for  fear  of  commit- 
ting some  gaucherie  at  this  oddly  served  table. 
I  noticed  Mrs.  Parsy,  after  peeling  her  potato, 
gave  it  a  slight  pressure  with  the  back  of  her 
fork,  and  it  fell  into  pearly  flakes  upon  her 
plate.  She  then  dressed  it  with  olive  oil,  pep- 
per and  a  little  salt.  I  imitated  and  found  it 
excellenL  They  bad  sweet  potatoes,  too,  in  a 
>  beautiful  state  of  preservation,  as  fresh  and 
sound  as  when  dug;  and  these  we  also  dressed 
with  oil,  but  without  the  pepper  and  salt.  This 
oil  was  far  superior  to  any  I  had  ever  tasted, 
and  the  Dr.  informed  me  that  a  friend  in  Flo- 
rence purchased  his  .annual  supply.  Although 
it  was  the  middle  of' February,  .(the  15th,  1  re- 
member,' for  it  was  my  birih  day.)  a  slender 
^  vaee  of  Bohemian  glass  on  the  table  was  filled 
•with  white  single  hyacinths  and  crocussca  of 
many  colors,  intermixed  with  green  leaves  of 
the  Enghsh  laurel.  A  dish  of  stewed  salsify 
was  very  nice,  also  Lima  beans,  an  exquisitely 


dressed  salad  was  at  last  served  with  tliin  slices 
of  toasted  bread,  saturate  d  with  oil  and  sprink- 
led with  pepper.  The  doth  was  then  re- 
moved. 

An  artistically  wrought  basket  of  silver,  wide 
and  low,  and  filled  with  fruit,  now  took  its  place 
upon  the  crimson  cloth.    There  were  the  mag- 
nificent, Nickajacks  and  perfumed  Cullasagas 
!  whose  parent  trees  I  had  looked  at  in  the  morn 

I  Of  peara,  ihero  was  the  luscious  winter  Nelis 
j  and  Dogcnne  D'Alencon— and  to  crown  all, 
•  grapes  looking  as  fresh  as  when  cut  from  the 
!  vine,  which  Mrs.  Pansy  told  me  were  kept  in 
tight  shallow  boxe^,  only  deep  enough  for  two 
i  layers  of  bunches,  each  bunch  wrapped  in  soft 
;  paper  and  the  interstices  wore  filled  with  wheat 
,  bran. 

'But.  you  must  know.'  said  Mrs.  P.,  'that 
I  much  of  our  success  in  keeping  fruit  is  owing 
I  to  the  care  t.iken  in  thp  construction  of  the 
j  fruit  room.  Living  as  we  do  on  fruits  and  veg- 
i  eiables,  .we  give  these  things  a  great  <ie,-.l  of 
!  attenlioc' 

I  How  I  er-joyed  those  grapes  and  peai-.^t  may' 
I  rcssiBLT  be  imagined  by  some-  feveri.eli  and 
I  feeble  invalid.  And  with  the  last  sip  •  .  ,  re 
old  wine,  I  came  to  the  conclusion  thai  I  tjad 
'  never  better  dined. 

]  The  quiet  which  reigned  around  this  home- 
stead and  its  surroundings,  was  inexpressibly 
I  soothing  to  an  invalid's  worn  nerves.  There 
were  none  of  the  sounds  usually  heard  around 
a  farmer's  domain — no  lowing  of  cattle,  no 
crowmg  of  chibker.?,  no  cackling  of  geese,  no 
squealing  of  pigs.  The  song  of  birds,  which  is 
never  hushed  even  in  mid-winter  at  the  South, 
and  the  occasional  tinkle  of  a  sheep  boll,  were 
the  only  sotmds  out  of  doors. 

Dr.  Pansy  kept  a  flock  of  sheep  for  the  pro- 
I  duction  (Sf  wool,  and  to  graze  the  grass  outside 
j  of  his  pleasure  ground. 

j  One  day,  in  walking  over  the  premises,  1 84# 
I  a  building  which  I  remarked  to  the  Dr.  looked 
!  suspiciously  like  a  smoke  house. 

'It  IS  a  smoke  bouse,'  he  replied  ;  'and  what 
is  more,  it  is  filled  with  bacon,  which  my  over- 
seer weighs  out  to  the  negroes  every  Satur- 
day. I  do  not  force  my  negroes  to  live  8B I  do 
— they  would  con?ider  themselves  very  mise- 
rable without  their  accustomed  hog  and  hom- 
iny. They  think  no  vegetable  is  fit  to  eat  with- 
out being  boiled  with  bacon.  I  also  furnish 
them  with  beef  and  mutton  for  a  change.  My 
neighbor.  Squire  C,  who  pays  very  little  at- 
leniion  to  fruit,  is  always  re^y  to  exchange 
ihese  blboriy  commodities  witlTme  for  a  share 
of  my  fine  winter  fruit,  of  which  I  vnise  greatly 
more  than  1  need.'  g^-     ,         ~"'^ 

I  renaained  a  month  with  Dr.  and  Mrs.  Pa^*" 


^ 


/ 


52 


THE    CAMP    FOLLOWER. 


happ7,coiitented  and  improving  in  health  every 
day.  After  a  week  I  rode  over  to  see  my  land- 
lady. She  was  surprised,  and  evidently  half 
chagrined  at  my  imprbvement,  and  very  inquis- 
itive as  to  what  I  lived  upon  at  the  Doctor's. 
I  gave  her  Mrs.  Pansy's  bill  of  fare  for  that 
day,  and  she  said: 

'Oh,  with  good  old  wine  and  plenty  of  fresh 
olive  oil,  I  reckon  people  can  do  without  meat, 
but  they  are  too  expensive  for  most  people.' 

Not  so  expensive  as  meat,  I  Judge,  Mrs.  B. 
Your  turkey,  roast  beef,  and  ham,  would  cost 
^uite  as  much  as  the  wine  and  oil  necessary  to 
supply  my  friend's  table.' 

Dr.  Pansy  had  an  immense  apiary ;  and  honey 
in  ihe  comb  was  a  constant  luxury  at  bistable. 
Mrs.  Pansy  made  the  most  delicious  bread  I 
ever  tasted.  She  said  it  would  be  unpardonable 
if  she  did  not,  when  her  husband  took  such 
p^ins  in  furnishing  her  with  the  finest  flour. 
Her  preserved  fruits,  jellies  and  pickles  were 
also  perfect ;  her  dried  figs  were  equal  to  those 
of  Smyrna;  her  can  fruit  brought  back  the 
luxuries  of  July  and  August.  The  exquisite 
taste  with  which  her  table  was  always  arrang- 
ed, alone  gave  one  an  appetite.  The  vase  of 
fresh  flowers  %■&&  never  absent,  the  unvarying 
ohve  oil  was  served  in  a  Florentine  bottle,  with 
handle  and  lip,  and  of  rare  artistic  workman- 
ship. The  decanters  and  wine  glasses  were 
the  most  graceful  of  their  kind.  At  breakfast 
and  tea,  the  um  with  it^  appropriate  surround- 
ingfl  glittered  with  massive  costliness.  Yet 
'Tiy  friends  were  not  wealthy. 

'But,'  said  Mrs.  Pansy  smiling,  'it  is  so  much 
cheaper  to  live  on  cereals,  firuits  and  roots,  that 
we  can  indulge  in  many  extravagances,  or  what 
would  seem  extravagance  to  people  of  our 
means.' 

Mrs.  B.,  my  landlady,  remarked  one  day  to 
Dr.  Pansy  that  she  did  not  think  it  Christian 
to  abstain  from  flesh  meats,  the  apbstle  said 
that  'every  creature  of  God  was  good,  and  to 
.be  received  with  thanksgiving.' 

Dr.  P.  replied: 

Then  why  do  you  not  eat  that  glossy  tortoise 
shell  cat  on  your  rug— or  that  gaunt  looking 
dog  in  Ihe  yard — they  are  just  as  much  crea- 
tures of  God  as  your  calves,  sheep  and  hogs.' 

Tiiere  was  no  reply  to  this  argument,  and 
Mrs.  B.'s  face  assumed  an  expression  of  aston- 
ished disgust  as  her  eye  fell  upon  the  aforesaid' 
hungry  dog.  • 

'As  far  as  I  can  see,'  said  Dp.  Pansy,  'the 
Apcsile  places  ihe  eater  of  herbs  and  the  eater 
of  meals  on  exactly  the  same  fooling,  but  ad- 
vises every  ona  to  be  'fully  pursua'fed  in  his 
own  mind.'  Itoat  I  am  pursuaded  luliy  thuc  a 
vegetable-diet  is  much  more  wholesome  than 
o^niverous — therefore,  to  act  otherwise  ttian 


f  I  do,  would  be  wrong,   and  expose  me  to  the 

'  denunciation  of  the  Apostle,   in  Romans  14, 

23.     But  he  leaves  me  no  room  to  judge  my 

brother.    This  is  a  matter  which  every  man's 

ovfn  conscienee  must  determine.' 

•But  how  did  yon  induce  your  wife  to  agree 
with  you  in  these  opinions  ?'  asked  Mrs.  B. 

'Oh,'  said  he,  'my  wife  loves  the  beautiful, 
the  poetic  1— she  shudders  at  the  cruelty  of 
killing  animals — when  she  was  a  child,  her 
father  took  her  to  Italy,  and  there  they  visited 
the  poet  Shelly  at  the  villa  of  Valsovano; — 
Shelly  was  a  vegetarian,  and  his  dinner  of 
bread,  fruits  and  wine  delighted  her  childish 
lancy.  So  it  required  no  persuasion  on  my  part 
to  make  Adele  entirely  concur  with  me  in 
tastes,  to  say  nothing  of  opinion.' 

The  sweet,'  yet  scarcely  perceptible  smile 
which  always  glowed  upon  the  -Doctor's  face 
when  he  spoke  of  his  wife,  showed  what  a  deep 
fount  of  happines  filled  his  heart  when  think- 
ing of  her. 

The  recollection  of  Mrs.  Pansy's  store  closet 
always  gives  me  an  appetite.  The  Immense 
jars  of  fragrant,  spicy  pickles,  the  catsups,  the 
prepared  sauces,  the  dozens  of  boxes  of  spices, 
the  flavoring  essences,  and  such  things,  innu- 
merable. 

Pair  country-women,  I  wish  you  would  take 
lessons  in  housekeeping  from  Mrs.  Pansy. 


THE   COCK-FIGHT. 

In  Mexico,  there  is  no  ■^riety  of  sport 
that  produces  a  more  general  excite- 
ment than  the  cock-fight.  It  is  not 
confined,  as  might  be  supposed,  to  any 
particular  class  of  persona.  Between 
the  generalissimo  of  the  army  and  the 
rawest  recruit — the  President  of  the 
Republic  and  the  humblest  hind — the 
archbishop  of  the  Church  and  the  meek- 
est member,  there  is  no  difference.  In 
the  amphitheatre,  side  by  side,  stand 
the  priest  and  the  peasant,  the  hunter 
and  the  herdsman,  the  shopman  and 
the  soldier.  In  juxta-position  may  be 
seen  the  old  man,  whose  dangled  locks 
are  white  as  the  polax  snows  ;  the  rtlen- 
der  youth,  whose  limbs  are,  slowly 
rounding  into  manhood,  and  the  truant 
boy,  scarce  old  enough  to  lisp  hia  Span- 
ish name.  It  is  common  to  every  caste 
and  conditioH— to  every  age  and  voca- 


THE     CAMP    FOIXOWK?. 


IS 


tion  ;  and  even  women  are  sometimes 
the  willing  observants  of  this  barbarous 
sport. 

The  excitement  of  the  coek-fight  dif- 
fers, in  some  respects,  from  all  other 
kinds  of  strife.  To  the  course,  a  man 
carries  his  prejudices  and  his  prefer- 
ences. The  name  or  reputation  of  the 
horse  ;  the 'favor  or  friend.ship  of  the 
owner  ;  or,  if  unacquainted  with  either, 
tlie  gait  and  color  of  the  former,  not  un- 
frequently  influence  his  wagers.  His 
feelings  once  enlisted,  he  abandons  him- 
self to  the  hope  of  success.  His  eyes 
follow  the  swift  steed,  in  his  circuitous 
course,  as  long  as  he  leads  the  race, 
with  a  rr.anifest  pleasure  that  is  wholly 
indescribable  ;  and  if  lie  Calls  behind, 
the  gloom  of  disappointment  slowly 
settles  upon  his  countenance,  and  his 
■  lips  iustinetively  compress  to  smother 
the  swelling  racre  within. 

But,  m  either  case,  he  is  .seldom  un- 
prepared for  the  result.  iTho  strife  ig 
not  the  work  of  a  moment.  There  is 
always  ample  time  to  note  the  move- 
ment of  eacli  horse,  to  remark  upon  his 
speed  and  bottom,  and  to  calculate  the 
chances  of  a  prosperous  termination. 

And  so  it  is  with  the  bull-fight.  An- 
nounced beforehand,  and  for  raanj'  da3's 
the  common  theme  of  conversation,  the 
community  are  filled  with  anticipation. 
Perhaps  thousands  have  visited  the 
combatants,  and  carefully  examined 
their  res[)cctive  powers,  jioting  the  size, 
the  color,  the  horns,  the  hoofs,  and  the 
strength  .of  the  one,  and  tlie  eyes,  the 
nose,  the  m<juth,  the  height,  the  limbs, 
and  the  muscles  of  the  others  ;  and  they 
enter  the  arena,  alike  familiir  with  th(> 
qualities  of  bull  and  gladiat.trs. 

.  The  former  standi  in  the  midst  6f  the 

area.  Iiis    head   and  tail    elevated,  his 

nostriLs  distended,  and  his  glaring  eves 

like  balls  of  fire — the  breathing  per.soii- 

■  ification    of  astonishment.       Presently 

■'  the  latter  e'lter  througli   wickct.s,  amid 

i  the  deafening  shouts  of  the  overlookiner 

t 


multitude,  and  approach  the  excited 
beast  in  opposite  directions.  He  looks 
at  one  and  then  at  the  other,  and  for  a 
moment  remains  undecided  ;  but  the 
waving  of  a  red  scarf  determines  him, 
and  he  darts  toward  hia  provoker,  with 
the  swiftness  of  the  wind.  By  a  dex- 
terous movement  of  his  person,  under 
cover  of  the  scarf,  the  gladiator  escapes 
the  onset,  and  plunges  his  knife  deep 
into  the  body  of  the  angry  beast,  which, 
with  a  rage  greatly  increased  by  the 
smart  of  the  wound,  turns  upon  his  wily 
adversary,  'fierce  as  ten  furies.' 

But  if,  perchance,  the  second  attempt 
is  more  successful,  and  the  gladiator  is 
forced  to  the  earth,  his  comrade  instant- 
ly flies  to  his  relief  ;  and  though  the 
horn  of  the  bull  may  touch  the  breast 
of  the  prostrate  man,  the  slightest  noise 
behind  usually  diverts  his  attention. 
And  thus  the  strife  continues,  until  the 
gladiators,  brused  and  mangled  fly 
from  the  field,  or  the  bull,  faint  from 
the  loss  of  blood,  sinks  down  in  death 
at  the  feet  of  his  conquerors. 

But  very  difien-ent  is  the  excitement 
of  the  cock-pit.  where  all  go,  the  beltor 
as  well  as  tlie  spectator,  without  predi- 
lection. For,  until  after  their  arrival, 
it  is  unknown  even  to  the  cockers  them- 
selves, what  birds  will  be  pitted.  From 
a  large  number,  always  exposed  for  sale 
on  such  occasions,  the  principal  bettors 
select,  each,  one,  and  place  them  in  the 
hands  of  the  gamekeepers,  for  prepar.^i- 
tion. 

The.sc  binl.-i,  having  been  so;:ie  time 
previous  bereft  of  the  weapons  nature 
designed  for  their  defence,  are  now^ur- 
nished'  with  gaffles,  or  artificial  epur.s, 
each  of  which  is  a  i)olished  steel  blade, 
about  three  incl.es  in  length,  half  an 
inch  wide  at  the  base,  curved  slightly 
upward,  sharp  at  the  point  and  on  t!ie 
upper  edge,  and  firmly  fa.steiied  to  the 
leg  by  mcan.s  of  a  claep. 

Tlius  armed  and  ready  fur  the  fight, 
they  are  curried  about  the   pit  by  the 


54 


THE     CAStP     FOLLOWER. 


gamekeepers,  who  hold  them  aloft  for 
the  observation  of  the  spectators.  It  is 
during  this  exhibition  that  the  side-bets 
are  made,  and  the  fight  is  not  commenced 
until  the  confusiop  thereupon  conse- 
quent has  entirely  subsided. 

In  general,  the  cocks  so  far  differ 
from  each  other  in  size  of  body,  color  of 
plumage,  or  length  of  tail,  as  to  be  easily 
distinguished.  Sometimes,  however, 
there  is  no  perceptible  difference  be- 
yond that  aff'orded  by  the  help  of  the 
knife,  by  which  one  has  been  previously 
divested  of  his  comb  and  gills  ;  and 
sometimes,  when  neither  or  both  have 
been  subjected  to  the  cutting  process, 
it  becomes  necessary,  as  a  distinction, 
to  encumber  the  leg  of  one  with  a  bit  of 
white  cloth,  the  disadvantage  to  be  de- 
termined by  lot. 

As  the  original  bettors,  under  the  di- 
rection of  the  gamekeepers,  usually 
select  the  finest  cocks  in  the  market, 
palpable  inequalities  are  very  unfre- 
quent,  and  wagers  almost  universal. 
Indeed,  so  strong  is  the  gambling  pro- 
pensity among  the  people,  that  there  is ' 
scarcely  one  who  does  not  avail  himself 
of  the  opportunity  to  wager  something 
on  the  issue  of  the  combat. 

When  all  the  bets  are  taken,  and  the 
crowd  has  become  thoroughly  settled, 
then  begins  the  breathless  excitement 
peculiar  to  this  species  of  sport.  The 
gamekeepers  advance  toward  the  centre 
of  the  pit,  tmtil  within  a  pace  or  two  of 
each  other,  when  they  release  the  cocks 
and  retire. 

These  warlike  birds,  oftentimes  before 
their  feet  have  touched  the  earth,  fly 
«pon%ach  other  with  a  violence  that,  in 
the  rebound,  brings  them  both  upon 
their  backs.  But,  as  soon  as  they  have 
recovered,  they  renew  the  onslaught, 
and  their  sharp  slashing  strokes  follow 
each  other  in  quick  succession,  until  the 
contest  is  terminated  liv  disability  or 
death. 

*  *  *  i(r  i-  * 


The  incident  I  am  about  to  relate  oc- 
curred in  the  city  of  Saltfillo.  It  was 
about  nine  o'clock  in  the  morning  of  the 
first  Sunday  of  May,  of  the  year  eigh- 
teen hundred  and  forty-seven,  Lieu- 
tenant Cordell  and  myself  were  on  our 
wa}-  to  the  cathedral.  As  we  passed 
the  head  of  one  of  the  narrow  cross- 
streets,  our  attention  was  attracted  by 
a  large  crowd  in  front  of  a  two-storied 
building,  the  lower  part  of  which  was 
used  for  a  grog  shop . 

At  that  day,  a  gathering  in  itny  pub- 
lic place  always  indicated  something  of 
an  exciting  character  :  usuallj-  a  fight 
or  a  fandango,  both  of  which  were  of 
almost  daily  occurrence.  The  former 
more  frequeatly  happened  in  the  streets, 
and  the  latter  in  the  houses  ;  'but  some- 
times this  order  was  reversed.  But 
whatever  occasioned  the  threng,  as  long 
as  the  excitement  continued,  the  num- 
ber increased,  every  passer  stopping  to 
inquire  the  cause. 

As  our  attendance  at  the  cathedra' 
was  prompted  by  curiosity  rather  than 
devotion,  we  quickly  turned  aside  and 
joined  the  crowd.  On  a  nearer  ap- 
proach, we  observed  Guy  Winthro-p,  the 
poet  of  our  regiment,  vigorously  elbow- 
ing his  way  toward  a  narrow  wicket  in 
the  wall.  As  a  lyrist,  he  had  no  supe- 
rior in  the  army,  save  Captain  Pike, 
who  wrote  the  'Battle  of  Buena  Vista,' 
at  which  tiie  Arkansas  cavalry  were 
present  when  the  fight  commenced. -- 
But,  with  all  his  lyrical  talents,  he  had 
a  keen  relish  for  the  ludicrous,  and  was 
a  great  lover  of  excitement  and  fun  ; 
and  he  managed  to  find  out  nearly  every 
amusement,  yet  was  seldom  seen  at  an 
indifferent  exhibition.  Thus  encouraged, 
wo  also  directed  our  efibrtsto  the  point 
mentioned,  and,  bj^  dint  of  hard  crowd- 
ing and  the  expenditure  of  a  brace  of 
picayunes,  at  length  gained  admit- 
tance. 

On  passirig  the.wi-ket,  we  found  our- 
>cr.-es   in  a  navrow   winding    passage, 


THE    CAMP    FOLLOWER. 


i)'0 


that  led  to  the  back  inclosure,  in  the 
centre  of  which  stood  an  amphitheatre  : 
a  circular  building  about  thirty-eight  or 
forty  feet  in  diameter.  The  walls,  not 
less  than  fifteen  feet  high,  were  built  of 
bricks  and  mortar,  and  carefully  plaster- 
ed on  both  sides  with  a  hard  cement. 
Five  rows  of  seats,  one  rising  above 
another,  completely  surrounded  the  in- 
side of  the  edifice. 

Long  before  our  arrival,  every  seat 
was  occupied,  and  all  the  space  inter- 
vening between  them  and  the  pit  was 
densely  crowded  with  bystanders.  By 
the  assistance  of  an  old  friend,  who  re- 
membered a  trifling  service  rendered 
some  time  previous  by  my  companion, 
we  obtained  permission  to  sit  upon  the 
top  of  the  wall,  whence  we  could  ob- 
serve all  that  transpired  below  with 
entire  satisfaction. 

In  the  pit  which  was  formed  of  a  wall 
about  three  feet  high,  and  sixty  in  cir- 
ctunference,  were  not  less  than  half  a 
hundred  boys,  each  with  a  cock  under 
his  arm.  Great  rivalry  prevailed  among 
them,  and  they  hurried  from  place  to 
place,  using  every  means  in  their  powe^ 
to  attract  attention  and  secure  purchas- 
ers. 

There  was  an  abundant  on'-'^'-'nr  .y. 
for  choice  among  the  cocks,  .vuicii  were 
of  almost  every  shade  and  variety  of 
color,  from  the  blackness  of  soot  to  the 
whiteness  of  snow  :  in  addition  to  which, 
some  were  not  bigger  than  a  woman's 
fist,  and  some  were  as  larg«  as  a  man's 
head  ;  while  the  prices  ranged  from  a 
rial  to  a  dollar. 

A  Mexican  dandy  was  endeavoring 
to  draw  a  wager  from  a  sutler's  clerk. 
They  appeared  to  have  difficulty  in  re- 
conciling some  trilling  difference.  Their 
conversation  was  onl}'  audible  to  them- 
selves and  those  in  their  immediate  vi- 
cinity ;  but  it  was  evident,  from  their 
excited  manner,  that  there  was  but  little 
likelihood  of  an  agreement. 

In  the   midst  o\'  this   quarrel,  wiach 


might  have  led  to  Something  more  seri- 
ous than  words,  the  corpulent  figure  of 

Brigadier   General   M suddenly 

darkened  the  entrance,  and  his  stento- 
rian voice  filled  the  amphitheatre.  In 
a  moment  all  eyes  were  turned  upon  the 
new-comer,  as  he  pushed  forward  to- 
wards the  pit,  calling  upon  the  venders 
to  exhibit  their  cocks. 

The  crowd,  unaccustomed  tc  such  an 
august  presence,  instinctively  drew  back 
on  cither  hand,  affording  the  elephant 
an  opportunity  to  pass  through  uncheck- 
ed, where  a  moment"  before  the  weasel 
must  have  forced  his  way  at  the  risk  of 
his  bones. 

The  general  was  closely  followed  by  a 
Catholic  priest,  clad  in  a  suit  of  grey 
broadcloth,  worn  quite  threadbare. — 
Over  his  shoulders  loosely  hung  a 
blanket  which  had  once  been  very  val- 
uable, and  most  probably  as  beautiful. 
On  his  head  was  a  red  flannel  skull- 
cap, fantastically  ornamented  with 
black  velvet,  and  in  shape  nut  unlike 
those  frequently  worn  by  jockeys. 

At  sight  of  the  American  officer,  all 
the  boys  rushed  forward,  holding  their 
cuks  aloir,  and  clamoring  like  as  many 
;;.!i'ites  of  bedlam.  Each  spoke  in 
^jxuiseofhis  own,  and  in  dispraise  of 
..•ytfi-y  other's  ;  all  at  the  same  moment, 
and  every  one  at  the  top  of  his  voice. 

There  was  something  ludicrous  in  the 
scene,  es-pecially  to  the  general,  who 
understood  not  a  word  of  Spanish.  For 
the  first  dozen  seconds  he  was  amused; 
but  as  the  boys  pressed  about  him,  and 
shouted  in  his  ears,  and  thrust  their 
cocks  in  his  face,  the  scene  gradually 
lost  its  '•  forest.  At  length  he  became 
inipatitjii.  and  then  indignant. 

'Beg  ur.  you  noisy  scamps  !'  he  cried 
in  a  thr.nm  ;-ing  voice,  accompanied  by 
an  angry  wave  of  his  great  fat  hand. 
The.  words  were  uttered  in  English,  and 
only  understood  by  the  interpreter  at 
the  priest's  elbow  ;  but  tLe  gesture  had 


56 


THE    CAMF    FOLLOWEE. 


a  true  Spanish  significance,  and  operated 
like  a  charm. 

Those  nearest  the  commander  retired 
in  silence,  completely  awed  by  his  indig- 
nant manner.  But  like  .^op's  fox,  that 
drove  away  the  glutted  flies,  their  places 
were  immediately  occupied  by  a  fresh 
swarm,  shouting  even  louder  than  their 
half-exhausted  fellows.  This  was  too 
much  for  endurance  :  the  general's  an- 
ger was  thoroughly  aroused,  and  he 
turned  about  abruptly  and  addressed 
the  priest : 

'Father  Ambrose  !'  said  he,  in  a  reso- 
lute tone,  at  the  same  time  pulling  a 
revolver  from  his  breast  pocket,  'you 
must  instantly  command  order  and  si- 
lence, or  I'll  let  off  the  contents  of  this 
weapon  among  those  noisy  devils,  and 
make  them  howl  for  something.' 

Immediately  the  priest  raised  his  lin- 
ger and  uttered  a  brief  remark,  and  all  the 
boys,  devoutly  crossing  themselves, 
withdrew  to  the  other  side  of  the  pit. 
Here  they  remained,  quietly  until  one  of 
the  gamekeepers  arrived  and  ordered 
them  to  be  seated. 

When  all  had  taken  their  places,  the 
priest  entered  the  pit,  followed  by  the 
interpreter,  the  stakeholder,  and  the 
dandy  before  mentioned.  The  general 
was  in  that  peculiar  maudlin  condition 
that  always  unlits  a  man  for  climbing, 
.so  he  contented  himself  with  a  seat  on 
the  wall  of  the  pit,  between  two  of  the 
venders. 

On  raising  his  eyes  to  the  crowded 
seats  that  rose  nearly  to  the  top  of  the 
wall  of  the  edifice,  they  chanced  to  fall 
upon  my  companion,  with  whom  he  was 
slightly  acquainted,  and  he  immediately 
summoned  him  to  his  assistance.  I  re- 
tained my  seat,  as  it  afforded  an  excel- 
lent opportunity  for  observation. 

'Lieutenant,'  said  the  general,  ex- 
tending liis  hand  in  a  friendly  manner, 
'I  am  exceedingly  glad  to  meet  you,  for 
I've  been  playing  monte  with  that  old 
grey  friar  "antil  Fm   penniless.     I  want 


to  borrow  fifty  dollars  to  bet  on  a  cock- 
fight, for  I'm  bound  to  win  my  money 
back  or  sink  my  commission.' 

'General,'  said  my  friend,  who  clear- 
ly perc-eived  his  condition  and  wished 
to  preserve  him  from  the  knavery  of  the 
priest,  'it  would  afford  me  much  plea- 
sure, but  it  is  quite  out  of  my  power.  I 
have  not  got  above  a  fourth  of  that  sum 
in  my  possession.' 

'Well,  give  me  what  you  have,'  said 
the  brigadier,  'and  borrow  the  balance 
from  your  chum,'  alluding  to  myself,  'or 
from  some  of  those  volunteers,'  pointing 
to  a  group  of  Kentucky  cavalry,  who 
occupied  seats  on  the  opposile  side  of 
the  amphitheatre. 

My  friend,  still  anxious  to  thwart  the 
crafty  old  churchman,  interposed  several 
objections,  but  the  determination  of  the 
general  bore  down  all  opposition.  The 
required  sum  was  raised  without  diffi- 
culty, and  with  a  similar  amount  from 
the  purse  of  the  priest,  deposited  in  the 
hands  of  the  stakeholder.  After  which 
the  general  retired  to  a  seat,  in  a  small 
balcony  above  the  entrance,  usually  re- 
served for  the  principal  bettors,  leaving 
the  matter  entirely  in  the  hands  of  my 
friend. 

From  this  moment  the  rascality  of  the 
priest  was  manifest  in  every  transaction. 
The  cock  that  he  proposed  t(j  pit,  chosen 
beforehand  under  the  advice  of  a  noted 
cock-master,  was  immediately  brought 
forward  and  placed  in  the  hands  of  a 
gamekeeper  for  preparation.  Against 
this  advantage  Cordell  strongly  protest- 
ed, but  to  no  purjiose,  for  the  priest  was 
inflexible. 

This  reduced  the  matter  to  an  alter 
native — to  select  from  among  the  birds 
in  the  pit,  or  draw  the  stakes  and  pay 
the  forfeit.  But  the  general  would  not 
consent  to  the  latter,  although  his  re- 
presentative, who  saw  at  a  glance  that 
among  all  the  fo.w  Is  present  there  was 
not  a  match  for  the  priest's,  urged  upon 
him  its   propriety,  supported  by  reasons 


THE     CAMP    FOLLOWER. 


51 


tbat  would  certainly  have   ihflueiKjed  a  ^ 
sober  brain. 

Compelled  to  make  a  selection,  Cor- 
dell  passed  around  the  pit,  and  taking 
the  birds  in  his  hands,  one  alter  another, 
gave  them  a  careful  examination.  Hav- 
ing accomplished  the  round,  he  desig- 
nated his  choice  and  demanded  the 
price,  at  the  same  time  drawing  forth  a 
long  silken  purse  well  filled  i^ith  Benton 
mint-drops.    ♦ 

The  vender,  whose  eyes  sparkled  at 
the  sight  of  the  gold,  was  about  to  re- 
ply, when  his  words  were  arrested  by 
the  voice  of  the  priest,  who  uttered  but 
a  single  sound,  his  face  piously  averted 
to  heaven,  and  his  attenuated  fingers 
busy  with  his  beads.  The  vender  quick- 
ly raised  his  eyes  to  tRe  master  of  his 
will,  and  then  said,  with  evident  reluc- 
tance, that  his  bird  was  not  for  sale. 

A.nother  selection  was  made,  but  with 
a  similar  result.  A  third,  fourth  and 
fifth  followed,  but  with  no  better  suc- 
cess. Xot  less  than  twenty  applica- 
tions were  made,  and  ensued  by  as 
many  refusals.  The  highest  price  was 
offered  and  declined.  The  value  was 
•  doubled  and  trebled,  but  all  to  no  pur- 
pose. Among  all  those  fifty  boys,  so 
eager  to  sell  only  a  few  moments  before, 
not  one  could  be  pvovailed  upon  to  part, 
with  his  property. 

By  this  time  Cordell  had  become  con- 
siderably excited,  and  would  rather  have 
lost  the  wager  than  paid  the  forfeit.  He 
insisted  on  a  purchase,  and  offered  as 
much,  silver  as  he  could  clutch  in  liis 
hand,  for  the  meanest  bird  within  the 
walls.  Many  e^'cs  turned  covetousl.y 
upon  the  glittering  offer,  but  nobody 
dared  make  the  excliaugc.  Then  he 
took  from  his  purse  ten  American  eagles, 
and  laid  them  one  upon  another  in  the 
palm  of  his  hand,  and  offered  all  for  a 
single  Mexican-  game-cock.  In  an  in- 
stant every  vender  was  upon  his  feet, 
and  their  eagerness  to  sell  was  even 
greater  than  at  the  beginning. 


But  the  last  offer  was  simply  an  al- 
lurement to  test  their  sincerity.  Before 
it  was  made,  Cordell  strongly  suspected 
a  combination  to  defraud  the  general 
out  of  the  forfeiture.  The  ardent  de- 
sire to  gain  possession  of  so  large  a  sum 
of  money  conviriced  him,  and  he  instant- 
ly resolved  not  to  be  overreached.  To 
the  surprise  of  all  present,  and  to  the 
chagrin  of  the  avaricious  venders,  he 
very  quietly  replaced  the  eagles  in  his 
purse,  and  the  purse  in  his  pocket,  and 
with  a  smile  at  their  discomfiture,  turn- 
ed about  and  addressed  the  priest : 

'Reverend  father,'  said  he  witli  mock 
deference,  :I  entreat  that  you  will  in- 
fluence some  of  these  venders  to  disposo 
of  their  property.  Thej' dare  not  dis- 
obey your  behests,  a;id  whatever  yen 
direct  they  will  speedily  execute.  It 
would  be  a  mortification  that  so  many 
well-disposed  people,  met  together  on 
this  bright  morning  of  the  Lord's  day,  to 
witness  a  little  innocent  amusement, 
should  be  obliged  to  disperse  without 
the  gratification.' 

'Indeed,  sir,'  replied  the  man  of  God, 
'you  attribute  a  power  to  me  that  I  do 
not  i)0ssess.  I  have  no  control  over 
these  young  people's  actions,  and  still 
less  over  their  property.  If  they  refuse 
to  sell,  I  have  no  power  to  coerce  them; 
and  if  I  had,  have  not  the  right.  Nor  is 
it  to  me  a  matter  of  much  consequence. 
Of  course  I  should  prefer  to  win  the 
wager,  but  am  not  avaricious,  and  if 
needs  be,  can  content  myself  with  the 
forfeit.' 

There  was  a  sang-froid  about  the 
manner  of  the  priest,  that  chafed  the 
proud  spirit  of  Cordell,  and  the  more,  a-: 
he  was  unable  to  divine  the  cause  of 
the  strange  behavior  among*  the'  ven- 
ders. From  his  knowledge  of  their  ac- 
quisitive disposition,  he  felt  entirely 
confident  that  some  unseen  iiifiuence 
was  exerted  .over  them,  or  that  the;,- 
were  acting  iff  concert  for  a  fraudulent 
purpose. 


58 


THE    CAMP    FOLLOWER. 


I  saw  that  he  was  puzzled,  and  hasten- 
ed to  explain  the  mystery.  From  my 
elevated  position,  I  could  distinctly  see 
all  that  transpired  within  the  area  ;  and 
I  had  noticed,  that  when  Cordell  ap- 
proached the  first  vender,  before  he  re- 
plied, looked  at  the  priest,  who,  in  every 
instance,  forbid  the  exchange  by  a  sig- 
nificant gesture  of  his  long  bony  finger. 
I  remarked  also,  that  when  the  ten  eagles 
were  offered,  a  nod  of  his  old  grey  head 
had  placed  every  bird  within  the  power 
of  the  purchaser. 

When  Cordell  came  to  understand  the 
character  of  the  fraud  practiced,  he 
turned  quietly  round,  and  slipping  his 
hand  under  the  stakeholder's  blanket, 
fastened  upon  his  coat-color  Vvith  the 
grip  of  a  vice.  'Now,'  said  he,  address- 
ing the  wily  old  priest,  'having  volun- 
tarily placed  yourself  in  a  dilemma,  you 
may  cling  to  which  ever  horn  you  pre- 
fer. One  of  two  things  you  must  do, 
and  without  delay  :  either  you  must 
furnish  a  cock  to  complete  the  match, 
or  relinquish  the  stake  without  the 
forfeit.' 

Quite  a  sensation  prevailed  among 
the  bystanders  when  these  words  were 
rendered  into  Spanish.  Significant 
looks  were  exchanged  by  the  ajguazils, 
several  of  whom  were  present  to  pre- 
serve order  and  quiet.  The  old  priest, 
without  nlliKling  to  the  charge,  began 
at  once  to  palaver  about  the  principles 
cf  honor  and  the  rules  of  the  cock-pit. 

Meanwhile  the  stakeholder  managed 
to  convey  the  purse  with  the '  wagers, 
into  the  hands  of  the  dandy,  who  imme- 
diately tried  to  escape  from  the  edifice. 
Perceiving  that  Cordell's  object  was 
likely  to  be  defeated  by  the  secret  trans- 
fer, I  quietly  descended  from  my  ele- 
vated position,  and  o^tportnnely  inter- 
cepted the  fugitive. 

Baffled  on  ever>-  hand,  the  villainous 
old  priest,  with  a  most  sanctimonious 
seeming,  turned  to  protest  hfe  innocence 
and  crave    ihe    general's;   interference  : 


but  to  his  utter  amazement,  the  briga- 
dier, who  was  sober  enough  to  compre- 
hend the  fraud,  was  standing  on  his 
feet,  with  his  ominous  revolver  aimed 
directly  at  his  consecrated  crovra.  'You 
cursed  old  shaveling,'  said  he,  'if  you 
don't  secure  me  a  cock  in  the  twinkling 
of  an  eye,  I'll  send  your  soul  in  hot 
haste  to  the  Devil.' 

These  words  terminated  the  difficul- 
ty. The  holy  man,  trembling  in  his 
shoes,  promised  to  use  his  best  endea- 
vors. Calling  to  a  little  ragged  boy, 
whose  arms  clasped  to  his  breast  an  un- 
gainly cockerel,  not  yet  full  grown,  he 
directed  him  to  bring  it  forward  for 
vendition.  Cordell  insisted  on  the  right 
to  make  his  own  selection,  but  the  gen- 
eral, already  grown  impatient  in  conse- 
quence of  the  unnecessary  delay,  au- 
thorized the  purchase,  and  begged  that 
the  contestors  might  be  speedily  armed 
for  the  fight. 

In  a  few  moments  the  pit  was  vacat- 
ed, except  by  the  cockers,  to  whom  was 
intrusted  the  preparation  of  the  com- 
batants. At  length,  eveiy thing  bjeing 
in  readiness,  the  general  desired  to  ad- 
dress his  champion  before  the  strife 
commenced.  The  request  excited  some 
mirth  among  the  Mexicans,  but  was 
promptly  complied  with  by  the  game- 
keeper. The  general  put  forth  his 
hand,  and  taking  the  cockerel  by  the 
bill,  turned  his  head  to  one  side,  and* 
addressed  him  in  the  following  terms  : 

'My  good  fellow,'  said  he,  with  an 
air  of  sincerity,  admirably  assumed, 
'the  relation  we  sustain  to  each  other 
makes  it  my  duty,  before  you  enter  the 
arena,  to  impress  upon  your  mind  a 
proper  sense  of  the  responsibility  that 
rests  upon  you  in  this  trying  moment. 
By  the  usages  that  everywhere  prevail 
among  the  politer  states  of  our  republic, 
I  have  this  day  become  your  master  b.y 
solemn  purchase,  and  have  a  right  to 
dispose  of  your  service  in  whatever 
way  may  best   subserve .  my  purposes. 


THE     CAMP    FOLLOWER. 


59 


But  I  design  you  for  an  example  of  my  i 
magnanimity-  ' 

'Upon  the  issue  of  the  fight  in  which 
you  are  about  to  engage,  entirely  de- 
pends the  condition  of  your  future  ex- ! 
istencc.  If  you  are  defeated,  you  will 
be  condemned  to  perpetual  slavery  ; 
but  if  you  are  victorious,  you  will  be 
freed  from  your  Uondagc,  invested  with 
the  rights  of  citizenship,  and  adopted 
into  the  great  family  of  American  fight- 
ing-cocks. 

'In  the  coining  contest,  you  are  to  re- 
present the  freest  and  the  happiest  peo- 
ple on  the  fac*  oi'  the  eartli,'and  in 
your  keeping  is  intrusted  the  honor  of 
their  most  glorious  nation.  Tiie  res\ilt 
of  this  combat  will  be  embk-rnjitical  of 
the  conclusion  of  the  ■s^'ar  in  wMch  they 
are  now  engaged.  If  you  arecon(jiiercd, 
all  that  Taylor  has  achieved  in  th;; 
mountains,  Scott  will  loose  in  the  val- 
leys ;  but  if  you  are  triumphant,  I  shall 
expect  t.'  celebrate  the  anniversary  of 
our  national  independence  over  a  hasty 
plate  of  soup,  at  the  table  of  the  victo- 
rious general,  in  the  palace  o(  the  Mon- 
te zumas. 

'Go,  sir,  and  do  your  duty  ;  and  may 
the  God  of  Abraham,  and  of  Isaac,  and 
of  Jacob,  and  of  the  Thirteen  United 
Colonies,  preserve  you  from  defeat,  and 
your  nation  from  disgrace.' 

When  this  address  was  concluded, 
Guy  Winthrop,  from  the  opoositc  side 
of  the  an  jhitheatrc,  cried   with  aloud 

voice,  'Three  cheers  for  General  M .' 

Immediately  a  score  of  hats  went  up, 
and  as  many  voices  followed  in  a  con- 
cert of  shouts  that  excited  the  wonder- 
ment of  the  whole  neighborhood.  In 
the  brief  quiet  that  ensued,  the  inter- 
preter gave  a  condensed  translation  of 
tiie  speech,  which  was  received  with 
shouts  of  laughter. 

I'resently  one  of  the  inferior  alcaldes 
of  the  city  made  his  appearance,  and 
;:ic  hilarity  of  his  constituents  quickly 


;i>sided  into  a  Jnnrmnr  of  gratili/atio'      om 


for  he  was  judge  oi  the  combat.  He 
walked  Forward  with  a  stately  tread, 
and  ascended  a  ftight  of  winding 
stairs,  consisting  of  seven  steps,  to  a 
place  not  unlike  one  of  the  ash-hopper 
pu'.pits,  fashionable  in  the  time  of  Jona- 
than Edwards.  Having  seated  himself 
and  wiped  the  perspiration  from  hi.s 
brow,  he  waved  kis  baton,  and  the 
gamekeepers  forthwith  placed  the 
champions  oja,,tiic   ground   and  retired. 

The  representative  of  Mexico  was  a 
full-grown,  welbproportioned,  vain-glo- 
rious, game-cock  of  the  red  feather,  and 
as  fine  a  specimen  of  his  breed  as  was 
over  pitted.  His  head  and  neck  were 
thickly  covered  with  a  rich  plumage 
of  crimson  hue,  which  mingled  with  the 
yellow  on  his  breast,  as  the  light  blends 
with  the  shade  in  the  me/iotinto.  His 
back  and  shoulders  were  purple,  and 
also  his  wings,  which  were  lightly 
tipped  with  black.  His  sides  and  thighs, 
and  the  under  part  of  his  wings,  were 
scarlet  interspersed  with  yellow.  His 
legs  and  beak  were  orange,  and  his  eyes 
like  globules  of  blood;  His  cresent 
tail,  which  swept  the  ground  like  the 
skirt  of  a  fashionable  ladj^'S  dress,  was 
a  liappy  mixture  of  glossy"  black  and 
fier}'  Vermillion.  His  broad  single  comb 
with  its  sharp  triangular  teeth,  fell 
gracefully  upon  one  side,  like  the  wav- 
ing plume  of  a  Kossuth  hat.  And  his 
whole  appearance,  from  the  '  crown  of 
his  head  even  untp  the  soles  of  his  feet, 
was  that  of  a  Mfexica^  ,  commander  at  a 
grand  review. 

Tcfy  diffcrct  was  the  appearance 
of  the  ungainly  cockerel  chosen  as  the 
representative  of  five  and  twenty  mil- 
lions of  freemen — hnd  some  slaves.  He 
was  in  truth  a  gawky  fellow,  not  unlike 
a  youth  that  had  shot  up  a  foc't  or  so 
boy».ind  his  years.  His  manner  was  de- 
cidedly awkward,  and  his  dress  shabby 
and  neglected,  especially  the  tail,  which 
,was  in  ratliEjr  a  tattered  condition.  His 
rr,v'^';nj  {•  msis-t*""!  of  a  thin  suit 


60 


THE    CAMP    FOLCOWEIl. 


of  short  feathers,  of  divers  colors,  in- 
termixed in  a  most  peculiar  manner. 
But  there  was  neither  jet-black  nor 
snow-white,  deep-green,  nor  blood-red  ; 
all  were  dull,  and  dingy,  and  dLsagre ca- 
ble. ** 

In  other  respects  he  was  equally  re- 
markable, He  was  tall  and  slender, 
and  carried  a  high  head  on  slight  sup- 
porters ;  bat,  like  many  of  the  people 
be  represented,  what  he  lacked  in  sub- 
stance he  made* up"  in  show,^for  his  legs 
were  of  the  exact  lustre  of  gold.  Al- 
together, he  looked  as  much  like  a  na- 
tive of  Pike  counfcy,  as  any  Missourian 
that  ever  measured  six  feet  and  three 
in  hi^  yellow  unmentionables  ;  and  his 
damaged  tail  strongly  resembled  Doni- 
phan's men  on  their  arrival  at  Buena 
Yista,  fresh  from  the  wilderness. 

But  it  must  be  borne    in    mind,,  tliat 
this  monster  bird,  upon  whose  glittering 
gaffles   bung-  the  glory   of a.great  na- : 
tion,  was   only  a  last   year's    chicken. 
'He  had  not  yei  attained    liis  complete 
stature,   nor   his_ limbs  tlieir  just  pro- ' 
portions,   nor  his     feathers     their   full 
length,   nor   his   colors   the    gloss  and  | 
brilliancy   of  ripe,  maturity  ;  even   his  j 
spurs  had  cot  yet  pro!  ruded  through  the  i 
skin  of  his  ankles.     Nevertheless,    his  ' 
step  was  lirm  and  his  bearing  fearless,  ' 
and  his    lustrous   eyes   flashed  with  the  ; 
fire  of  defiance. 

There  v\'as   cue  other    thiug   iu    his 
appearance  particularly  wiirthy  of  men-  ! 
tion.     The  many  colors  of  his  i!)hi'iuage,  j 
like  those  of  the  jwiism,    nicely   inter- ' 
mixed,  yet vpre.se rved  their  distinctness.  \ 
But   while    tile   casual    oh.server    saw 
nothing    ren^arkable    in     the    spotted  ■ 
breast  and  striped  back,  Guy  Winthrop, 
his  eye    iii   a  line   frenzy   rolling,  di.g- ; 
covered  in  the  one  the   grefit  canopy  of 
stars,  and  in  the  other  the    bright  rain- , 
bow  of  promise  :  and  by    a   flourish  of! 
the  imf.ginalicn,  a  poetical  license  that  ! 
prosers    knuv,-    n-)thij;g  about,  instantly 
;    ■:  amorphosed  :he  motley  bird  iiito  th^  j 


American  flag,  It  must  be  confessed 
that  the  resemblance  was  not  very 
striking,  but  the  idea  was  happily  con-, 
ceived  under  the  circumstances^  and 
three  simultaneous  shouts  went  up  from 
the  volunteers  for  the  success  of  the 
glorious  stripes  and  stars. 

For  several  moments  the  proud  cham- 
pion of  Mexico  looked  upon  his  un- 
couth antagonist  with  su!'prise,  and  af- 
terwards with  curious  scrutiny.  It 
was  very  evident,  if  his  manner  was  a 
truthful  indication^  tliat  he  regarded 
him  as  a  half-fledged  upstart,  only 
worthy  of  his  contempt.*  But,  on  re- 
flection, he  resolved  to  punish  him  for 
his  rash  presumption,  as  Walpole  did 
the  future  Earl  of  Chatham.  Full  of 
this  dstermination,  he  dropped  his  head 
and  tail  to  a  level  witii  his  back,  and 
rushed  furiously  athwart 'the  pit,  aim- 
ing a  death-blow  at  his  devoted  head. 
Meanwhile,  the  champion  of  America, 
highly  delighted  with  his  shining  spurs, 
upon  which  was  centred  his  entire  at- 
tention, fell  into  a  foolish  reverie,  and 
^uite  forgot  the  business  in  which  he 
was  engaged.  It  was  well  for  his 
honor  and  safetj'-  that  a  considerable 
space  separated  him  from  his  adversa- 
ry, c-lse  he  might  have  bit  the  ground 
without  striking  a  blow  for  his  life,  and 
tlie  cause  he  represented.  But  the 
pompous  preparation  of  his  indigent 
foe,  arou.sed  him  to  a  full  sense  of  his 
danger,  and  the  intervening  space  saved 
him  fro!n  immediate  destruction. 

There  was  something  truly  admirable 
in  his  manner,  as  he  raised  his  head  and 
squared  himself  for  the  onset:  To  all 
appeamnce,  a  violent  collision  was  inev- 
itable, and  the  result  was  awaited  with 
breathless  anxiety.  But  in  this  in- 
stance, as  in  many  others  'of  much 
more  importance,  ;ii>ticipation  was  not 
realized  ;  the  spectLitors  were  disap- 
pointed, and  the  ukl  wurrior  surprised 
and  mortified.  His  wily  adversary, 
like    the    great    Wasiiington,     quietly 


T»K     CAMP    FOLLOWER. 


61 


stood  upon  his  defence,  antil  the  sword 
was  raised  to  strike  the  bl<jw,  then 
crouched  and  disappeared,  leaving-  the 
victor  to  digest  his  wonderment  as  best 
ke  could,  while  he  was  dealing  a  coun- 
ter blow,  with  bloody  effect,  in  his  un- 
protected rear. 

Contrary  to  ever^'  one's  expectation, 
in  the  first  roun4  America  escaped  un- 
hurt, while  Mexico  received  a  serious 
injury.  But  the  old  cock,  though  he 
severely  felt  the  blow,  managed  to  con- 
ceal the  extent  of  the  damage,  by  the 
interposition  of  a  fearless  front  and 
another  furious  attack.  This  time  the 
cockerel  maintained  his  'position,  and 
returned  blow  for  blow  ;  but  after  ten 
or  a  dozen  strokes,  dealt  with  the  grace 
and  skill  of  an  adept,  he  was  compelled 
to  retreat  and  leave  the  field,  now 
stained  with  blood,  in  the  possession  of 
his  more  powerful  enemy. 

At  the  distance  of  half  a  rod  he  came 
to  a  halt  and  faced  c^out  to  view  the 
battle-ground,  in  the  centre  of  which 
stood  the  conquerer,  exulting  in  his 
triumph.  First  he  flapped  his  beautiful 
wings,  then  arched  his  graoeful  neck, 
then  opened  wide  his  beak,  and  in  a 
clear  and  ringing  voice,  cried  'Cock-a- 
doodle-doo  !'  After  the  lapse  of  a  mo- 
ment he  essayed  to  repeat  the  exulta- 
tion, but  was  unexpectedly  interrupted 
by  the  cockerel,  who  rushed  upon  him 
just  as  he  cried  'Cock-a— ,'  and  upset 
him  with  the  'doodle-doo'  in  hia  throat. 

Heredpon  the  struggle  was  renewed, 
and  maintained  with  great  vio-or  for 
several  seconds,  but  without  material 
advantage  to  either  p'arty.  Then  fol- 
lowed a  succession  of  feints  and  skir- 
mishes, in  which  Fabius  tried  to  outwit 
Hanibal,  and  the  energies  of  both  were 
well  nigh  exhausted.  For  a  few  mo 
monts  they  stood  beak  lo  beak,  to  re- 
gain tneir  bl-eath  and  recover  their 
strength;  and  then  foil  upan  each  other 
with  a  liprceness  and  a  fury  that  made 
their  previous  struggles   seem  as  play. 


In  all  the  vast  multitude  who  looked 
down  upon  the  combatants  when  they 
dropped  from  the  hands  of  the  game- 
keepers, there  was  not  one  who  antici- 
pated such  a  bloody  and  protracted  con- 
test. Thew  bird  of  Mexico  was  in  his 
prime,  and  inspired  his  friends  with  con- 
fidence, while  the  other  failed  to  excite 
even  a  hope  in*  any  but  the  breast  of 
Winthrop.  But  he  was  strangely 
impressed  with  a  presentiment,  a  some- 
thing that  poets  regard  as  prophesy, 
that  the  cockerel  would  achieve  the 
victory ;  and  he  clung  to  the  convic- 
tion threughout  the  combat,  against 
every  appearance,  the  decision  of  the 
judge  and  the  approval  of  the  specta- 
tors. 

Among  the  persons  present  on  thi. 
occasion,  were  men  of  sixty  winters, 
who  had  never  witnessed  such  a  strug- 
gle where  the  combators  were  armed 
with  gaffles.  In  less  than  half  the 
time  already  consumed,  they  had  seen 
birds  of  much  better  appearance  than 
the  cockeral,  fall  tq  the  earth  dead,  in 
some  instances  -decapitated,  and  in 
others  totally  disembowelled.  And  to 
them  it  was  a  matter  of  the  greatest 
wonder,  how  he  could  withstand  the 
superior  force  of  the  old  cock,  whose 
CTcry  blow,  dealt  with  a  master's  skill, 
scattered  the  motley  feathers  of  his 
breast,  and  spattered  the  ground  with 
hiij  blood. 

But   moments   passed  into  seconds, 
and  seconds  into  minutes,  and  minutes 
muttiplied,    and    still     the   fight   pro- 
greased.     At  length,     overcome  with 
fatigue,  they  abandoned  the    spur  and 
resorted   to   the    beak,   in   the   use  of 
which  the  younger  warrior,  whose  crest 
was  low  and   double,  had  greatly  the 
advantage.     In  this  manner  the  strug- 
gle continued,   long   after  the  feaibera 
were   stripped   from  *heir  necks,  and 
until  the   comb  of  the   old   cock   was    ' 
completely  cleft  asunder.     In  the  hand 
to  hand  fight  he  was  no  match  for 


62 


THS     GAMP    FOLLOWER. 


Yoting  America,  under  whose  drooping 
wing  he  was  at  last  obliged  to  thrust 
his  bleeding  head  for  protectio^i. 

A  brief  respite  ensued.  The  old  bird, 
weary  from  exertion,  and  weak  from 
the  lost  of  blood,  seemed"'' anxious  to 
suspend  the  strife  until  he  had  in  some 
measure  regained  his  breath  and 
strength.  Bat  the  younger  one,  like 
youth  in  general,  was  impatient  for  the 
temiination,  and  vainly  tried,  by  every 
mea»s  in  -liis  power,  to  dislodge  his 
e.nemy.  At  length,  regarding  him  as 
a  cowardly  skulker,  and  leeling  for 
him'  a  thorough  contempt,  as  he  en- 
dured his  blows  with  the  submissive- 
Bess  of  a  spaniel  or .  negro  slave,  and 
withal,  wearied  with  his  fruitless  exer- 
tions, he  stretched  forth  his  long  feath- 
ea-less  neck,  and  uttered  a  shrill  cry  of 
defiance. 

Old  chanticleer,  who  had  cunningly 
resolved  to  undergo  temporary  injuries 
that  he  might»in  the  end  realize  perma- 
oent  benefits,  perceiving  that  the  anger 
ofhisfoe,  in  his  exhausted  condition, 
totally  unfitted  him  for  vigorous  resis- 
tance, suddenly  darted  forth  from  be- 
neath the  sheltering  wing,  and  set  upon 
him  with  the  fury  of  annihilation.  Seiz- 
ing him  by  the  back  of  the  head,  he 
dealt  full  half  a  dozen  blows  on  his 
Heeding  breast,  in  such  quick  succes-  [ 
sion  that  not  one  could  be  returned 
And  when  his  hold  gave  way,-  the  cock- 
erel staggered  back  a  few  paces,  reeled 
from  side  to  ade,  and  tumbled  headlong 
to  the  earth. 

Up"  to  this  moment  a  breathless  si- 
lence prevailed  throughout  the  amphi- 
"Aeatre  ;  it  was  now  broken  by  a  shout 
■from  the  Mexicans,  that  burst  upon  the 
car  like  a  peal  of  unexpected  thunder. 
But  before  the  exultation  could  be  re 
pea+,ed,  the  judge  raised  his  baton,  and 
in  the  silence  that  immediately  followed 
prockimed  the  victory.  To  the  sur- 
prise of  the  .spectators,  nearly  all  of 
whom   acquiesced  in  the  deeision,  Guy 


Winthrop  insisted   that  the  proclama- 
tion was  premature, 

'Right,  by  heavens  !'  shouted  the 
brigadier,  springing  to  his  feet,  ^^veatly 
excited.  He  had  begun  to  entertain 
hopes  of  victory,  so  nobly  did  the  young 
bird  sustain  his  part  in  the  fight.  'And 
sir,'  he  added,  addressing  the  judge, 
'your  decision  is  too  hasty,  for  as  long 
as  life  remains  hope  may  be  enter- 
tained, and  that  bird  is  not  yet  dead. 
You  must,  therefore,  reserve  your  opin- 
ion until  life  is  extinct,  or  I  have  aban- 
doned the  contest.' 

The  judge  listened  to  tliis  address 
from  the  lips  of  the  interpreter,  wi'th 
manifest  indignation,  but  he  gave  it  no 
noti<"e  beyond  a  contemptuous  curl  of 
his  lip.  In  the  further  exercise  of  his 
duty,  he  again  waved  his  baton,  and 
the  gamekeepers  entered  the  pit  to  re- 
move the  combatants.  But  they  had 
Bcarcel}'  crossed  the  wails,  when  Cor- 
dell  leaped  before  them  and  forbade 
their  interference.  A  couple  of  algau- 
zils  flew  to  their  assistance,  and  a 
struggle  would  have  ensued,  had  not 
the  murderous  revolver  of  the  briga- 
dier prevented.  R  was  aimed  directly 
at  the  breast  of  the  alcalde,  whom  he 
threatened  with  instant  death  if  the 
I  pit  was  not  speedily  vacated. 

At  that  day  there  was  no  weapon  so 
much  feared  by  the  inhabitants  of  Mex- 
ico, as  the  American  six-shooter.  It 
was  new  to  the  most  of  them,  and  its 
operation  a  wonder  and  a  mystery. 
With  the  double-barrel  they  were  fa- 
miliar, and  it  was  frequently  found  in 
their  possession-  Its  principles  were 
easily  explained  and  understood,  and 
with  these  they  were  thoroughly  ac- 
quainted. The  running  noose  or  lariat, 
was  also  in  common  use,  and  in' their 
hands  a  most  dangerous  and  deadly  in- 
strument. Perhaps  'on  all  the  waters  of 
the  Mississippi  there  was  not  a  black- 
leg better  skilled  in  the  use  of  the  long 
knife,  upon  which  they  relied  for  safety 


THE    GAMP    FOLLOWER. 


63 


in  close  combat,  under  almost  all  cir- 
cumstance?. And  sometimes  they  used 
the  vengeful  stilletto  iaa  manner  that 
would  not  have  shamed  the  proudest 
assassin  of  that  degenerate  people  from 
whom  they  derived  its  use,  together 
with  their  laws,  language,  manners, 
customs,  fashions,  religion,  and  the 
best  blocnl  of  their  nation. 

But  tie  deadly  revolver  was  a  wea- 
pon only  known  to  them  by  its  effects  ; 
and  these  were  unaccount.ibk  and  mur- 
derous, that  many  regarded  it  iis  an  in- 
vention of  the  Dft-nl,  placed  in  the 
laands  of  the  hirsntc  barbarians  of  the 
north,  for  the  destruction  oi'  Catholics 
and  the  dissemination  of  the  corrupting 
principles  of  Protestantism.  One  of 
those  little  guns,  in  the  hands  of  an 
American,  could  produce  greater  con- 
sternation among  an  assemblage  of  na- 
tives, than  a  score  of  foot-guards  with 
their  bayonets  fixed  and  their  muskets 
set  for  a  charge.  It  was  valuable  on 
all  occasions  ,  now  to  preserve  peace, 
and  anon  to  quell  disturl  ance  ;  at  one 
time  to  enforce  law,  and  at  another  to 
protect  life  ;  and  occasionally,  as  in 
the  present  instance  to  exact  even-hand- 
ed justice,  which  was  too  seldom  re- 
ceived in  that  country,  especially  by  the 
natives  of  the  United  States, 

Terrified  by  the  menacing  attitude 
of  the  general,  the  judge  promised  to 
withhold  his  decision  until  life  was  ex- 
tinct ;  another  flourish  of  his  baton  ar- 
rested the  progress  of  the  algnasils, 
and  caused  the  gamekeepers  to  retire. 
Gordell  also  withdrew,  and  the  pit  was 
again  in  the  possession  of  the  comba- 
tants, which,  foitunately,  were  not  in 
'  the  least  disturbed  by  the  events  tliat 
produced  so  much  excitement  among 
the  spectators 


of  two  or 
upon  his 


versary,  who,  at  tliC  distanc^j 
three  yards,  looked  down 
helpless  victim  with  the  pride  of  a  con 
querer.  In  this  manner  seveAl  min- 
utes elapsed,  and  the  Mexicans  had  be- 
gun to  manifest  their  impatience  by  cer- 
tain low  mutterings  that  are  better 
omitted,  when  it  was  observed  by  one 
of  the  gamekeepers,  that  the  old  bird 
was  gradually  losing  his  strength,  and 
possibly  his  life  through  the  rear- wound 
received  at  the  commencement  of  the 
struggle.  About  the  same  time,  G-uy 
Winthrop  noticed  the  blood  trickling 
dojwn  from  the  long  purple  feathers  that 
hung  so  gracefully  from  the  root  of  his 
tail,  and  he  rightly  suspected  the  cause 
of  the  old  priest's  anxiety  after  he  had 
been  spoken  to  by  the  g-amekeeper. 

Presently  the  proclaimed  conquercr 
grew  unsteady,  and  staggered  about 
thp  pit  like  a  drunken  man  ;  and  soon 
after  his  head  dropped  upon  his  breast, 
and  he  fell  forward  to  the  earth.  But 
he  immediately  recovered  his  feet,  and 
stood  still  for  a  moment  to  muster  his 
expiring  energies,  then  dropped  his  head 
and  tail  to  a  level  with  his  back,  as  in 
the  beginning  of  the  engagement,  and 
rushed  upon  his  helpless  ioe,  with  the 
obvious  design  of  destroying  his  life 
before  himself  expired. 

The  cockerel  clearly  perceived  the 
intenticn,  but  was  unable  to  avert  the 
threatened  destruction.  But  where  life 
is  endangered,  the  slightest  chance  fW 
its  preservation  is  not  to  be  despised  ; 
so  he  laid  his  head  upon  the  ground, 
and  threw  up  bis  feet  to  shield  his  body. 
The  onslaught  was  terrific,  and  the 
gaffle  that  struck  the  blow,  coming  ia 
contact  with  the  clasp  on  the  leg  of  the 
prostrate  bird,  was  snapped  into  piece? 
and  scattered  about   the  pit     But  the 


After   two  or   three   ineifectual    at- '  force  of   the   impetuous    tilter  carrie^i 

tempts  to  regain  his  feet,    the  cockerel    him  several  feet    beyond    his   enemy, 

j^ tumbled  over  on  his  side,   evidon^}  dis-    where,  falling    headlong,   like   Judas 

conragcd  ;  but  he  still  kept  his  head    Iscariot,  he  burst  asunder  in   the  ipidst. 

from  the  ground  and  his  eye  on  his  ad     and  all  bis  bowels  gushed  out. 


64 


THE    CAMP    FOLLOWER. 


Exasperated  by  a  cruelty  that  would 
even  spare  a  fallen  foe,  the  cockerel  re- 
newed his  exertions,  and  after  two  or 
threo'  efforts  regained  his  feet.  For  a 
moment  he  remained  stationary,  then 
cautiously  approached  his  chivalrous 
victim,  walked  slowly  round  his  man- 
gled corpse,  looked  with  pride  upon  his 
death-wounds,  and  then,  passing  by  his 
side,  in  a  clear  and  musical  voice  chant- 
ed the  hymn  of  his  victory. 

On  examination,  it  appeared  that  the  old 
cock  had  died  of  the  blow  inflicted  in  his  rear 
at  the  opening  of  the  war,  when  the  cockerel, 
eluding  his  attack  by  a  masterly  stratagem, 
crossed  the  Delaware  on  the  ice,  captured  the 
Hessians  at  Trenton,  and  dispersed  the  British 
at  Princeton.  It  is  true  that  he  afterwards 
fought  bravely  at  Brandywine  and  Monmouth 
court-house,  and  died  game  at  Yorktown,  yet 
he  was  never  able  to  recover  irora  the  fatal 
blow  received  at  a  ,time  and  in  a  quarter  least 
expected. 

But  the  younger  bird,  though  his  neck  was 
stripped  of  its  feathers,  his  crest  picked  in 
pieces,  and  his  breast  covered  with  wounds, 
was  still  alive.  He  had  contended  against  a 
veteran,  had  been  repulsed,  compelled  to  re- 
treat, borne  to  the  earth  by  a  superior  force, 
and  reduced  to  extremity ;  but  he  had  sur- 
vived every  attack,  recovered  from  every  de- 
feat, drove  the  enemy  behind  his  entrench- 
ments, harassed  his  marches,  crippled  his  ener- 
gies, scattered  his  resources,  defeated  his 
hopes,  destroyed  his  confldence,  and,  in  the 
end,  achieved  a  complete  victory. 

'Now,'  said  the  general,  with  a  smilfe,  ad- 
dressing the  disappointed  judgde,  'yon  may 
decide  the  combat,  and  award  the  wager. 
Father  Ambrose,'  he  added,  turning  to  the 
avaricious  prie  t,  'I  have  retrieved  my  morn- 
ing tosses  and  something  over,  a  )d  should  be 
glad  to  have  you,  with  these, .  my  friends,'  al- 
luding to  Cordell,  Winthrop,  and  myself, 
'dine  Nvith  me  at  the  American.  You  see,' 
he  continued,  speaking  to  the  spectators,  'that 
neither  Molina  del  Rey  nor  Chepultapec  will 
prevent  the  success  of  our  arms  in  the  valley 
of  Mexico.  And  to  yon,'  designating  the 
poet,  'I  will  give  that  cock,  with  the  hope 
that,  if  he  survives,  you  will  carry  him  with 
y)a  to  the  United  States.' 

"Winthrop  received  the  present  with  a 
pletfture  even  greater  than  the  general  felt 
when  he  fobb^  the  old  priest's  gold.    He 


took  immediate  steps  to  stauach  the  blood  and 
dress  the  wound  ;  and  he  carried  him  to  the 
camp,  and  nursed  him  with  so* much  care,  that 
in  a  few  weeks  he  was  entirely  recovered. 
When  the  Twelve  Months'  Volunteers  were 
discharged  from  the  service  by  reason  of  the 
expiration  of  the  period  for  which  they  had 
enlisted,  the  poet  carried  the  victorirus  cham- 
pion with  him  to  America,  and  placed  him  on 
the  hundred  and  sixty  acres  of  land  he  bad 
earned  in  his  country's  cause,  where  he  still 
survives,  a  splendid  bird,  striped  and  starred 
as  handsomely  as  the  banner  ot  liberty,  the 
patriarch  of  the  flock,  and  the  progenitor  of 
some  of  the  gavv^t  .cocks  south  of  Mason  and 
Dixon's  Liine. 


'Come  here,  my  little'  dear,'  said  a 
young  man  to  a  little  girl,  to  whose 
sister  he  was  paying  his  addresses  ; 
'you  are  the  sweetest  thing  on  earth.' 
'No  I  am  not,'  she  replied,  artlessly  ; 
'sister  says  you  are  the  sweetest.'  '  The 
question  was  popped  the  next  day. 


Wit  and  Wisdom. 

They  teli  u?  that  cold  weather  contracts 
everything.  Our  experience  is  that  colds  are 
contracted. 

Sir,  I  will  make  you  feel  the  arrow  of  my 
resentment.  Ah,  Miss,  why  should  I  be  afraid 
of  your  arrows  when  you've  got  no  beau  ? 

If  you  wish  to  obey  the  order  'fire  and  fall 
back,'  shoot  with  an  overloaded  musket, 

'Doctor,  have  you  not  killed  five  patients  ?' 
*0h,  yes,  but  mankind  is  in  my  debt,  for  I  am 
the  lather  of  six  children.' 

There  are  a  great  many  beams  in  eyes  of 
ladies,  but  they  are  generally  all  sunbeams. 

Impossibilities,  like  visions  and  dogs,  fly 
before  him  who  is  not  afraid  of  them. 

Of  all  complaints,  envy,  though  the  Bost 
undoubted,  is  t^e  most  ungracious 

Be  ill  the  fashion ;  you  had  bette.^  dispense 
other  people's  follies  than  your  own.  ^ 

The  narrower  a  soul  is,  the  more  easily  it  is 
crossed. 


Date  Due 

NOV  29 

wVi 

Bj:.  2 

!94t 

1 

•  • 

Form  335— 15M 

— 7-36— S 

808.8      C186 


343959 


